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THE EAGLE, 



ARLINGTON, 



AND 



OTHER POEMS. 



BY 

* ROBERT B.'^CAVERLY. 

THREE VOLUMES IN ONE. 
VOL. I. 



e-.v£.^G*'j4!*=9^a^^ 



BOSTON: r .n-.ot* 

PUBLISHED BY B. B. RUSSELL, ^ 

55 Corn DILI/. 



7€) i 5 7 V- 

.CyAn 



Entered, according to Act of Congress, in the year 187€, by 

ROBERT B. CAVERLY, 
in the Office of the Librarian of Congress, at "Washington. 



(£> vVL-«-</<^ [ - , y 






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ILLUSTRATIONS YOL. L 



THE AUTHOR'S HOME. Frontispiece 



II. IVIAGGIE PxiTIENT WAITING. 58 
Artist, W. H. TiTCOMBE. Engraver, E. A. FoWLE. 

For me and thee, what joys to come! 
To meet, for aye to be but one. 
Good night, my dear, come home i 

III. THE LITTLE BIRD, IN AUTUJNIN, TAKING LEAVE. 82 
Art. TiTCOMBE. Eng'r. FoWLE. 

Now the icy bleak November 

Comes to di-ive thee far from me : 
Long will I thy love remember, 

Far, my blessings follow thee! 

IV. TEAY, ON THE BATTLE FIELD, AT THE GRAVE OF HIS 

RLVSTER. 141 

Art. TiTCOMBE. Eng'r Fowle. 

The instinct of his nature rare, 
His head was high to the tainted air, 
As if in expectation ; 



--^-^'O] 




CONTENTS VOL. I. 



The Eagle, 

At the tomb of the first Martyrs 

His habits and history 

What the Pati-larchs said of him 

His appearance 

An account of the Flood . 

An account of Old Job 

Of the Isi-aelites in the wilderness 

Pride [a paraphrase] . 

Valor and of Homer 

The Vine . 

Parental care ....... 

His peroration; and his flight to a mountain home 

Talk there to the Wood -Nymphs 
" " of war and the rebellion 
" " of his visit at Wamesit . . 

•' " of trials and of bondage 
'* " of the merchants .... 
" " of true kindness [a paraphrase] 
" " of liberty ..... 

" until, at eve, he falls asleep . . , , 

His dream, and, at dawn, his disappearance in the heavens 

V 



CONTENTS. 



Zagonti's Cavalry Charge 

The Love Letter,— " He 'U read it when he wakes" 

g keen wood .... 

Little Ned .... 

Hark! 'tis a Voice . 

The Wood -Thrush, [a dialogue] 

Little Mary to the Bird . 

NEVEii Hunch 

Nullification . , 

An Allegory 

Washington, D. C. [a letter] , 

Bull Run .... 

DupoNT AT Port Royal .... 

The Light of the World inspires Hope 
The First Monitor ..... 

The Dream ...... 

Arlington ...... 

The Potomac and its landscape 

" drive -way and the specters . 

" 1st field [6,000 dead] . 

" inscriptions .... 

" night -dirge .... 

" interview, Scott with Lee 

" decision and the result 

" 2d field, [13,000,] and the night-watch 

" dead, unknown, [2,111] 

" visitors ..... 

" widow and her dog - 

" grave of Mary Randolph Washington 

" return, and the day -dawn . 



4.T 

50 
61 
C7 
72 

77 
80 
83 
88 

5);i 

IGl 
107 
112 
115 
118 
122 
125 
127 
120 
130 
131 
133 
134 
135 
137 

i:8 

140 
143 
14G 
149 




ILLUSTRATIONS VOL. XL 



L THE AUTHOR'S LIKENESS, 2 

n. CHOCORUA AT THE GRAVE OF KEOKA, 162 

Artist, H. Billings. Engraver, E. A. Fowle. 

A white flag fluttered in the aLi-, 
Sweet stars from heaven glittered there, 
And the zephyrs came to love her. 

m. VICTORY, 934 

Artist, Van Rauch. Engraver, E. A. Fowle. 

Rear high yon statue! — proud and just, 

Make glad the consecrated green. 
Where doth the soldier's sainted dust, 

Bespeak the sorrow Earth had seen. 

IV. THE OLD GARRISON HOUSE, 284 

Artist, N, C. Sanborn, Engraver, E. A. FOWLB. 

How, oft amid the tempest blast, 
Ye heard the rattling arrows cast. 

The mid -night gun, the savage yell! 

1 



CONTENTS VOL. II. 



Page 

Bride of Burton (Chocorua) 157 

The Pet Canary • 169 

A Memento (Written for a Lady) 172 

Onward to the Sea (Sherman) 173 

An Acrostic (Advice) 176 

On Dixie's Woodland (Sedgwick) 177 

Cheerf uhiess (A Letter) 181 

Up the Kennebec (Descriptive and Historic) 185 

Barnard Brown (Admonition) 196 

Tlie Golden Wedding (A Surprise) 199 

An Elegy (Jewett) 207 

" That Old Flag Yet " (An Incident) 211 

Again 'tis Night (Domestic) 215 

Bumside at Roanoke 219 

OurDay of Independence, — in Peace — in War 224 

Victory (Peaceful — Serene) 233 

The Two Brothers 239 

Festivity 241 

The Martyrs (A Discourse) 243 

A Prescript, — The Replication 251 

The Wag in a Grave Yard 253 

A Card, — The Answer 256 

The Lost Children (A Ghost in a Cloud) 257 

Endurance (A Postscript) 272 

A Night Thought (Paternal) 275 

The Soldier's Mother (At the Grave) 277 

3 



4 CONTENTS. 

The Old Garrison House (Historic) 283 

Sam the Carpenter 202 

Loss of Love (Suggestive) 20Z 

An Autograph (An Address to Patrons) 299 

Our Pioneei-s 306 

APPENDIX. 

Note 44, Chocorua 469 

" 45, Lilla 471 

" 46, A Soldier at the Sea 471 

« 47, Sedgwick 471 

♦« 48, On the Kennebec 472 

« 49, Of the Surprise 473 

" 50, Cemetery at L 473 

" 51, Our Flag,— Its Definition 474 

♦• 52 to 56, Rebellion, — Its Cause, &c 475 

" 57, Of the Statue Victory 475 

" 58, Book of the Martyrs, — A Letter 475 

" 59, An Incident 47G 

" 60 to 62, History of the Lost Children, &c 476 

" 63, The Law in such Case 478 

«* 64, Watchenoet 478 

«* 65, Miautonimo 478 

" 66, The Chime-bells of L. 479 



ILLUSTRATIONS VOL. TIL 



Page 

I. Man in the Mountain 324 

II. The Whale seeking Deeper Waters 330 

III. Saraoset 338 

IV". Massasoit and Gov. Carver 340 

V. The Moose taking Leave 342 

VI. The Wild Horse 378- 

VII. Death of King Philip 346 

VIII. The Indian Conflict 414 

IX. Indians crossing to the Contoocook 354- 

X. Mrs. Duston killing her Captors 356 

XI. The Old Homestead 424- 

XII. Wheel of the Olden Time 374- 

XIII. The Contoocook . . 308 • 

XIV. Tisquantum's Return 388 ■ 

XV. Sir Francis Drake, from an old English Painting, — A White Man, 

first in New England 338 

5 



CONTENTS VOL. III. 



PAGE 

Our Pioneers (Duston Statue) ......... 306 

The Landscape 324 

The Creation 325 

The Storm 326 

The Torrent 327 

The Sea 328 

The Working of the Waters 329 

Finny Tribes, First Appearance of 330 

Bii-ds, " " " 332 

Animals, " " " 333 

First Indian, Appearance of 333 

The Indian's Habits and History 334 

The Pilgrims coming, find Squanto, alias Tisquantum, '* wandering here 

alone" 336 

Samoset ! His Personal Appearance, &c 338 

The First Treaty, — Pilgrims with King Massasoit 339 

Tisquantum dies, giving all this Domain to the Pilgrims .... 340 

Progress in that Day 342 

The Fifty Years' Peace, up to Philip's Time 342 

Philip meditates War, and Sassamon divulges it to the Pilgrims . . 343 

Sassamon is murdered by Philip's Men 343 

The Murderers are tried in an English Court 343 

Philip appears in Court denying the Jurisdiction 343 

Philip's Argiunent 344 

The Murderers executed is the First Step to Philip's War ... 345 

The War, and Philip's Death 345 

Peace 346 

Ki7ig JVilliam's War, and Woman's Heroism in that Day .... 349 
The White Man's Mode of Defence to Indian Warfare .... 350 
The Story of the Capture of Mrs. Duston and her Two Assistants by the 
Indians, — the Slaughter of the Indians by them, and their Final Es- 
cape from Captivity # 351 

Progress as made by the Pilgxims . 366 

The Revolution 367 

7 



8 CONTENTS. 

The Veterans of the Revolution 367 

Industrj' and Habits of the Generation next succeeding the Revolution, 

in the Seasons of 368 

Haying 369 

Threshing the Grain 370 

Harvesting and Husking the Com 371 

The Sabbath-Daj ' 373 

Habits of the Household in the Olden Time 374 

ilodern Inventions 375 

Progress in this Valley in the 

Building of Cities 376 

Turning the Eiver Power 376 

Erecting Manufactories 376 

Making Progress in Science as well as Art 377 

The Railroad in this Valley, and its Work 378 

The Telegraph and its Work 379 

Improvements here in Husbandry 380 

The Six Cities, —ioi/;eZ/, Manchester, Concord, Newhuryport, Law- 
rence, and Nashua, with the Villages and Towns on the Merrimao, in 

their various Trades, Art, Science, and Industry 380 

Of the many renowned Sons of this Valley, a few are named, to wit : 

Lowell and Jacksox, famed for Force of Character, and for 

Knowledge and Skill in the Arts 376 

Stark and Pierce, known to Revolutionary Fame .... 368 

Webster for Eloquence 383 

Parsons for Law and Learning 383 

Ayer for the extent of his Operations in the Healing Art • . . 382 

Whittier for Truthful Song 384 

The Four Years' Rebellion ; and the rush from this Valley to resist it . 385 

The Force employed in its Overthrow 386 

Lincoln, Grant, Sherman, and Sheridan 388 

Tisquantum's Return to the Merrimao 390 

My Morning Ray 395 

God over All 398 

Daniel and his Dog 401 

Jerusalem 407 

Years of Pocomtuck 409 

Dedication 419 

Our Native Home 421 

" How Sweet the Hour " 426 

The Old Elm 428 

May-Day 435 

An Impromptu 442 

A Month among the Tombs 413 



AN EAGLE 




HE Eagle that gave occasion to this song came into Low- 
ell and took his stand within the enclosure, on the lofty shaft 
erected at the tomb of the first martyrs of the rebellion.(a) 
His appearance there, in the heart of a populous city, so far 
distant from the mountains, awakened amazement. The throngs 
that gathered and gazed upon him, were greatly moved by an ad- 
vent so strangely extraordinary; perhaps ominous. 

(6) Some days afterwards, in a neighboring town, he was decoyed 
and captured. His strength was herculean. His captor (it is said,) 
suflfered damage through the loss of garments, in the act of taking 
him. 

(c) He was then obtained by an association of young men, and 
for some time was held on exhibition. 

{d) At length, certain merchants, by contribution, purchased his 
freedom. 
(f) At the hour appointed for his release, he was taken to a high 



10 THE EAGLE. 

tower, and thousands witnessed his beauty of movement, and swift- 
ness of flight, when he took his departure towards the hiIl-top< afar off. 
if) Mr. Wilson, the Ornithologist, speaks of the Eagle thus : — 
" This bird has been long known to Naturalists, being common to 
both continents. . . . Formed by nature for braving the severest 
cold, feeding equally on the produce of the sea and of the land; pos- 
sessing powers of flight capable of out -stripping even the tempests 
themselves, unawed by anything but man; and from the ethereal 
hights to which he soars, looking abroad at one glance, on an im- 
measurable expanse of forests, fields, lakes, and ocean, deep below 
him, he appears indifferent to little localities, or to the change of sea- 
son, as, in a few minutes, he can pass from summer to winter, — 
from the lower to the higher regions of the atmosphere, the abodes of 
eternal cold ; and thence descend at will to the torrid, or to the Arctic 
regions of the earth. . . . Perched on an eminence at the sea 
shore, he awaits the approach of the fish hawk. The fish hawk 
dives down rapid as an arrow from heaven, and disappears in the 
deep, making the surges foam around. At this moment the eager 
looks of the Eagle are all ardor, — and levelling his neck for flight, he 
sees the fish hawk once more emerge, struggling with his prey and 
uounting the air with screams of exultation. These are the signals 
for our Hero, who, launching into the air, instantly gives chase, and 
soon gains on the fish hawk ; each exerts his utmost to mount above 



HIS HABITS. 11 

the other, displaying in these rencontres, the most elegant and 
sublime aerial evolutions. 

The unincumbered Eagle rapidly advances, and is just on the point 
of reaching his opponent, when, with a sudden scream, probably of 
despair and honest execration, the hawk drops his fish. 

The Eagle, poising himself for a moment, as if to take a more certain 
aim, descends like a whirlwind, snatches it in his grasp ere it reaches 
the water, and bears his booty away to the woods." — See Wilson's 
Ornithology, p. 326. 

In the light of history, the life of the Eagle is long and eventful. (} ) 
His career has been noted from the earliest ages. His life means 
something. 

(g) Before Christ 2350 years, KOAH saw him, when he gathered to- 
gether " into the ark two and two of all flesh wherein is the breath of 
life ; when the rain was upon the earth, forty days and forty nights." — 
Gen. 7: 12-15. 

(h) 830 years afterwards Job saw him :—" Doth the Eagle mount 
up at Thy command and make her nest on high? She dwelleth and 
abideth on the rock, upon the crag of the rock, and the strong place. 

" From thence she seeketh the prey, and her eyes behold afar oflF. 

" Her young ones also suck up blood, and where the slain are, 
there is she."— Job 39 : 27, 28, 29, 30. 

(z) 130 years later MosES saw him : — " The Lord's portion is hia 
people. Jacob was the lot of his inheritance. . . . 



12 THE EAGLE. 

" As :m Eagle stirrctli up her nest, fluttereth over her young, 
si)reudeth abroad her wings, taketh them, beareth them on her wings. 

" So the Lord alone did lead him/'— Deut. 32 : 9-11, 12. 

(j) When 430 years more had transpired, David saw liim when 
hcsung: — "Bless the Lord. . . . Who satisfieth thy mouth with 
good things, so that thy youth is renewed like the eagle's."— Ps. 103 : 5. 

(k) Blind Homer, 120 years later, knew him when he sung of " the 

•Sire." 

" And forthwith he sent an eagle, the most perfect of birds, holding 

.afaAvn in his talons, the off- spring of a swift deer; and near the very 

•beauteous altar of Jove, he cast down the fawn J''— Horner^ s Iliad, 

!B. 8, p. 142. 

(?) ISATAii, 188 years later, knew him (Isaiah 40: 3). And 
about the same period Solomox saw him: — "Wilt thou set thine 
eyes upon that which is not? For riches certainly make them- 
selves wings; they fly away like an Eagle toward heaven." — 
Prov. 23: 5. 

(w) He was Imown of Obadiah, 125 years later. " Though thou 
^xalt thyself as the eagle, and though thou set thy nest among the 
stars, thence will I bring thee down, saith the Lord." — Obad. 1 : 4. 

(?i) EzEKiEL, at the same period, saw him, and made him the rep- 
resentative of Royalty in the planting of the Cedar, which became a 
vine. In that parable, among other things, he says : — 

" A great eagle, with great wings, long winged, full of f-atliers, 



SAW THE PATIUAIICHS. 13 

wliicli had divers colors, came unto Lebanon, and took the highest 
branch of the cedar. 

" He cropped off the top of his young twigs, and carried it into 
a land of traffic, 

" He set it in a city of merchants. He took also of the seed of 
the land, and planted it in a fruitful field; he placed it by great 
waters, and set it as a willow tree ; and it grew and became a 
spreading vine of low stature, wdiose branches turned toward him, 
and the roots thereof were Tinder him, so it became a vine, and 
brought forth branches and shot forth sprigs. 

" There was also another great eagle, with gi-eat wings and 
many feathers ; and behold this vine did bend her roots towards 
him, and shot forth her branches towards him, that he might 
water it by the furrows of her plantation. 

"It was planted in a good soil by great waters, that it might 
bring forth branches, and that it might bear fruit, and that it 
might be a goodly vine. 

" Say thou, thus saith the Lord God, Shall it prosper? " 

— Ezekiel 17 : 3-12. 

And now, to this generation, at the close of a great rebellion, 
iu the year one thousand eight hundred and sixty-eight, iu the 



14 THE EAGLE. 

fourth month, on the tenth day of the month, the eagle again ap- 
pears, and, as if still contemplating the vast events of the world, 
stands high on the shaft above, " the very beauteous altar " 
of our God. 



AT THE TOMB. 





H! why are ye here, sad, so lonely away, 
High perched, from the dawn to the noor 
of the day. 

Like a Priest or a Prophet, surveying the Town, 
Or one of the gods, strange, immortal, sent down : 
Thy countenance cool, and thy temples all white, 
Like the snows of wild winter, or frosts of tlu 

night ; 
And thine eye full of light, so sagacious appears, 
Bespeaks thee a sage in the wisdom of years ; 



16 THE EAGI^. 

So much like an angel in pinion of wing, 
So grave and majestic, we hail thee a King I 

II. 
What reason, O tell us, ignoble or strong, 
Hath moved thy far -coming and led thee along? 
Of time in the distance or knowledo^e of as^es, 
And what ye have seen of the saints and the sages ; 
Thy life -long experience, thy mental condition, 
Thy habits historic, untold of tradilion ; 
What thought in thy temples still turns in transi - 

tion, 
And the hope, if ye have it, of final fruition? 
tell us, now waiting as we gaze from the Town, 
And let the light of thy life in its gladness shine 

down. 

ni. 
Twas thus that we hailed him; we sought a 

reply ; 
But the shades of a tempest still floated on high. 



GHOSTS m THE CLOUD. 17 

He stood like the sun, then beclouded at noon, 
And the tear that he shed, fell down on the tomb. 
AYe glanced and perceived a great grief had come 

o 'er him, — 
For the forms of the dead in a cloud stood before 

him ; 
Such forms then so God -like, 'twas awful to see! 

IV. 

They had borne his own image on the flag of the 

free; 
They had battled in life for that banner of right. 
They had kindled the life-blood of men in their 

might, 
The tyrant at war, to the shades they had hurled. 
And had calmed the emotions of God and the world. 

We list for the answer — in throngs volunteered, 
And waited entranced, till that cloud disappeared;. 
When forth in obeisance he bowed like a man 
In the fullness of heart, — and thus he began: 



18 THE EAGLE. 

V. 

" On a cliif in the heavens, beyond the bright sun, 
High above old Arcturus, iny being begun; 
Near v^here the Arch angels, w^ith banners unfurled, 
Chant holy hosannas to the God of the world, — 
Up near where the fields bright beaming are proud, 
Like the tints 'mid the rain -drops, of the bow in 

the cloud. 
Where the lakes, and the rivers, soft silver unfold, 
And the rocks of the mountains are garnished with 

gold ; 
Where, sweeter than morn in the glory of spring. 
The lily waves wide, and the wild warblers sing; 
From the farthest fixed star, as ye see it bright 

burning, 
Around which the spheres, vast, eternal, are turning ; 
Near where the great Maker stood forth from His 



th 



rone. 



HIS OHiGm. 19 

When He framed the Creation, and called it His own, 
From there I've descended. 

VI. 

Long, long are the ages 
Of life's varied journey, and tragic the stages 
Through which I have come; — ever anxious to ken 
The ways of the world, and the movements of men ; — 
How the Fathers of old, ever true to persuasion. 
From Adam descended, your own blood relation, — 
Then nearly allied to me and to mine ; — 
Their deeds are adorned on the tablets of time. 

VII. 

But sin much abounded, so fearful its form, 
It curtained the earth with a terrible storm ; 
To rage wild, unbounded, dread wrath to betoken, 
The heavens were opened, and their bottles all broken ; 
The God of the skies through the tempest was 
frowning. 



20 THE EAGLE. 

And the world, full of nations, in a deluge was 
drownino^. 

VIII. 

Old Noah, to rescue the races, and then 

To improve the behavior of the children of men. 

Had fashioned a vessel, stupendous and strong. 

And sought the best blood of the clamorous throng 

To cull out a cargo ; he gathers together 

The twain of each tribe, (^) notwithstanding the 

weather, 
Of beast and of bird, the deep deck overflowing. 
The long serpent hissing, and bullocks loud lowing, 
Huge lions, that roar, and creatures that quack 
'Mid the turmoil of terror, completed the pack. 

IX. 

The Ark, then, uneasy at the flow of the fountains, 
Is dashed on the deep by a surge from the mountains ; 
The tribes of creation, on board at their quarters, 



noah's flood. 21 

High, now on the billows, they plow the wild waters ; 
O'er dale, over mountain, in the midst of that night, 
Overwhelming the tree -tops, deep buried from sight. 
'Twas awful ! the west -winds in anger were growling, 
Then gales from the eastward, high -heaving, came 

howling ; 
Then the North, and the South gales, gushing 

together, 
Roared rough o'er the wave - tops ; tempestuous 

weather ! — 
With thunder, and storm, and foaming of flood 
For the sins of the world; — 'twas the vengeance 

of God! 

X. 

Then when the fair Phoebus had dried up tlie 
fountains, 
And the windows were opened, (^) away to the 
mountains 



22 THE EAGLE. 

We wandered — near then to the gates of Gomorrah, 
In the sight of old Job, in a cloud of dread sorrow. 
Unchanged by the union of ills that betide him, 
Unmoved by temptation of Satan beside him, 
His mantle hath fallen, his locks have been shorn. 
Up there from the ashes (f) he stands forth forlorn. 

XI. 

We listen and linger ; — he made my acqaintance ; (^) 
'Twas there to the nations, a lesson of patience, 
A lesson of love in the bonds of affliction, — 
Of faith true in God ; — and a warm benediction 
He left to the world. Ah ! 't is well worth the 

labor 
To know him a Patriarch, a friend or a neighbor. 
To him was the triumph in work and in word, 
That savors of Idndness to beast or to bird ; 
To man or to angel, to Gentile or Jew, 
To earth's creeping creatures, as well as to you. 



STRANGE GODS. 23 

XII. 
Then next of the heathen, 't is but a brief story ; 
The Assyrian and Arab made idols their glory ; 
They, thus in delusion wild then as it ran, 
Created an image, a bird with a man. (*) 
Dumb, dumb was that god, and delusive the glory 
Of man in his folly ! he fell down before me ; 
Such worship revolting, the birds, they repel it. 
And the beasts in derision, they laugh when I tell it. 
Yet prone to nude notions, the idol, he seeks it 
In life and in death — 'twas the sin of old Egypt. 

XIII. 

Down the deserts of Horeb (^) near the bush and 

the fire, 
Up the pathway of Abram to the mount of Moriah, (^) 
On the shores of the seas, on the brow of old 

Tabor, 
On the hills that were shaken at the thunders of 

Kleber, (') 



24 THE EAGLE. 

In the vales of Mount Hor, (^) of Sinai, (^) and 

Carmel, {''') 
That blot oriental, that worship infernal, — 
Of idols prevailing, devoutly relied on, 
Beclouded the kingdoms in the sight of Mount 

Zion;— (11) 

XIV. 

Bewildered the world in the day that discloses 
The law on the tables enacted of Moses, 
Who, hating the tyrant and the way of his worship, 
For forty long years ' bore the bones ' of old 

Joseph (1^) 
Through the desert, in tempest, in plague, and in war, 
To the high -lands of Pisgah, ('^) for Canaan afar. 

XV. 

Behold, then, the tribes, their Chieftain and Kings, 
From bondage to freedom, transported with wings ! Q^) 
How then the Eg\^3tians attempting to flee. 
Overturned in their chariots, had sunk in the sea; 



SAW THE QUAILS. 25 

Then how to all Israel a promise was given 
From the god of the tribes — a treasure from heaven ; 
Not then to be measured in meat or in money, 
'T was Canaan o'erilowing of milk and of honey ; 
That the people might prove of a better persuasion, 
*A kingdom of Priests,' a magnanimous nation; 
To whom the rich manna fell down from above, 
And quails, vast, in showers, descended in love. 

XVI. 

Yet long having lived without meal, without 

mutton, 
Allured of temptation, they acted the glutton; 
Old Satan, secluded,* laid wait to decoy them 
To the net of intemperance ; — the plague it destroyed 

them. 

So died there the pilgrims ! Such sin, at the best. 
Is a blot on the record of man or of beast. 

Still there for the livino- to lead them arifjht, 



26 THE EAGLE. 

That cloud of the day, and that pillar by night, 
Stood high in the heavens, and it welcomed the way ; 
Yet heedless, unholy, they went far astray. 
Their ingots of gold, and their rings at the bridal, 
Collected and melted, created an idol. 
Here three thousand perished, — 'twas a terrible rod, — 
For the crime of mistaking a calf for a God ; — 
A signal example, a lesson worth knowing, — 
Still high for the nations that night-star stood glowing. 

The pains of the world are the products of vice ; 
They fall in just judgments on men or on mice ; 
Each fault and each folly, in work or in word. 
Though nurtured in nature, must have a reward. 
XVII. 

To be led of allurements that tempt to misguide, 
To glory in grandeur, or strut in vain pride. 
Is not mine ; nor to covet unbounded fruition. 
Nor to bask on the brink of unholy ambition ; — 



STOEM AND WHIRL^VIND. 27 

*Your nest' mid the stars, though ye build it in 

mirth, ('") 
'T will fall to the dust, to the dust of the earth ; 
For the storm, or the whirlwind, that lurks in the 

cloud, 
Breaks alike on the pampered, the poor, and the 

proud. 
'The high,' though in garlands of glory they revel, 
Far down with the lowly must sink to a level ; — 
Still yet, in the spirit great truth ye discover. 
That the angels are guardians ; above ye they hover ; — 
And though they mount upward to regions high- 

vaulted. 
The proud are brought low, and the meek are 

exalted. 

XVIII. 

Man toils for rich treasure, (^) from the depths 
of rude nature, 



28 THE EAGLE. 

He hoards it, he loves it, unUke the mere creature, 
Down, downward he grovels for gold in the dust. 
His garments bespattered, corroded with rust. 
Ah ! why will ye covet earth's lucre so vain ? 
It dies with your bodies, 't is dross that ye gain, 
'T is the pelf of the moment that flits in the air. 
It feeds upon folly, and dwells in despair. 

XIX. 

Why thus do I mention man's darling delusions? 
They strongly impress me, I mean no intrusions. 

Since the world is dependent on this, that, and 
'tother, 
'T is the height of true valor to help one another ; 
Not grudgingly right, nor in wrong to appear. 
In the dark cloud of danger, a swift volunteer; — 
God's will with oppression — to never confound it, — 
To leave ' the wide world ' no worse than ye found it 
Marks a manly ambition. 



SAW HOMER. 29 

My ^jre,9ence ye seek, 
As once did the Roman, the Persian and Greek. (^'^) 
The Greeks were inspired, when at heavens high 

portals, 
I dropt down a fawn from the gods, the immortals ;(^) 
'T was seen of wise Homer, though then in his 

blindness, 
With the wrath of Achilles he sung it in kindness ; 
Wild, o'er the vast waters, it stirred up the fountains, 
Entrancing the world as it trilled o'er the mountains, 
Sublime and eternal ; 't was the song of a poet. 
Triumphant and truthful, the nations all know it. 

XX. 

Of Nature inspired, in her primitive days, 
And still seeking truth from her works and her ways, 
I 've stood on the cedar of Lebanon Q^) high, 
And down from that mount'^in, beneath the blue sky, 
Surveyed fair Canaan. 



30 THE EAGLE. 

Sought then, there to scan 
The mission of mortals, my kindred to man ; 
Saw the world in its grandeur, its changing condi- 
tions. 
Its weal and its woes, and its strange superstitions ; 
Saw the pilgrim 'mid trials, his upward advances. 
With the like aspirations in the high hope of chances, 

XXI. 

I plucked there a sprig, and I planted a vine, (°) 
And left it to prosper in the progress of time. 
In the land of the ' Merchants,' it grew at my word. 
It lives everlasting, and blessed of the Lord ; 
Behold its fair tendrils, with vigor they rise, 
They span the wide world, and they cling to the 

skies. 
Prolific, abounding in beauty sublime, 
In the fruits of salvation supremely divine. 

XXII. 

I count back the periods that downv/ard iiave run 



ON MOUNT OLIVET. 31 

From Adam and iNIoses. Messiah hath come ; 
The world stood amazed at his work and his wisdom, 
When in light and in love he established a kingdom. 
Alas ! then wdiat crime, what dread horror, what 

shame, 
From the high lands of Olivet, (^'^) from Calvary (^®) 

came ! 
Huge rocks fall asunder, the mountains vast shaking. 
The temples are troubled — earth rumbling and 

quaking ; — 
That day became night ; the fair sun hid his face, 
And a vail ^ red like crimson ' overwhelming the 

race — 
O ' Father forgive them ! ' O, Father forgive ! 
"T is finished ! ' He said it, and died; — 

XXIII. 

Yet to live 
Earth's Icind Intercessor down the ages to come, 



32 THE EAGLE. 

'Till through her dominions, God's will shall be done ; 

When the lamb and the lion, foreshadowed of old, 

Shall find sweet contentment beneath the same fold. 

Thence, though the frail youth may faint in the 

way, 

And strong men, grown weary, may fall at noon -day, 
Deign, deign but to make the Messiah a Friend, 
Your way to high heaven like the Eagle's shall 

tend, (1^) 
And though the rough path of life's journey be 

dreary, 
Ye '11 run a good race, and never get weary. 
There 's a kind care in God for the pilgrim and 

saint, 
Great strength to gain, gladly ye '11 walk and not 

faint. 

XXIV. 

But why should I make many matters my care 
That have no relation to the ' tenants of air ' ? 



HIS JOY AXD son::ow. 33 

The world is our kingdom to ghidden and cheer it, 
While the madness of man, we have reason to fear it ; 
To trust to the God -head, that irave the wide win*'* 
To fly from the fowler — to reverence that King 
Who fashioned a favor to life unprotected, 
That when the worst comes, it comes unexpected — 
Is ours. 

Unadmonished, untaught of its powers, 
Grim deatli has no terror — yet ever 'tis ours 
To know each event of to-day or to-morrow 
Brings forth, in succession, a joy and a sorrow. 
In this desert of dangers, 'tis dear to discern 
Now and then a true kindness, it comes in its turn. 
Coy, heedful, discerning, judicious and keen, 
The wrong and the right to discover between, — 
We live but to notice what Nature ordains, 
Her laws to obey, or to suffer the pains. 

XXV. 

Thou^Tjh artful disf]^uises mav cliance to mislead us, 



34 THE EAGLE. 

Our Earth is a mother^ too true to deceive us ; 
We pride not in lucre, in learning or art, 
But calmly to cherish contentment of heart. 

XXVI. 

How can ye gainsay it? — man lives by his booty — 
On mine so do I, and I deem it my duty ; (f) 
Say — is it unlawful to plunder the hawk? — 
Then why cheat the lamb of his life at the block? 
Why frown at the foxes because they inveigle. 
Yet claim their dominion, and glut like the Eagle? 

How true ! [ye have said it] what though it be 
scandal. 
To ^ strain at a gnat ' is to ' swallow a camel.' 

XXVII. 

What can we do better life's mission to fill 
Than to trust the Great Leader, and work at His 
will? 

To Nature and kindred I constant have clunof, 
With a care for my home, and a care for my young. 



PARENTAL CARE. 35 

Their beds on the crag -rock with down do I cover 
And o'er them in storm of the midnio-ht I hover : — 
To nom'ish their natures, sweet morsels I bring, 
And their weak little bodies I bear on my wing; (i) 

xxvm. 
O, ye who have matrons, yet living or dead. 
Ye '11 lend your attention to what I have said ; 
For, in the dark hour of ftite or of fear, 
There is always one heart yet hovering near — 
Hail I hail that dear Mother, our infancy knew, 
Alike ever precious to me or to you I 

Sad, here though forever we think of the past, 
Down the pathway of ages we hope to the last ; 
Well blest on the journey with faith to recall. 
Ever constant in Idndness, One Parent of all ; 
Who doth from His bounty frail nature renew, (j) 
Yet never exhausted, eternal and true. 
To live but to love Him, to move at his nod. 
Dame Nature we cherish, and glorify God. 



36 THE EAGLE. 

XXIX. 

Farewell ! I '11 away for the day is far fleeting ; 
Devoutly I thank ye, made glad by your greeting ; 
I thank ye for kindness in many relations ; — 
YeVe written my name on the bright constella- 
tions ; (^') 
Ye 've borne me in battle above on your banners, (^^) 
And wild on my pinions have wafted hosannas ! 
Thanks, now and forever, for these many things ! " 
Thus spake the wild hero, and took to his wings. (^) 

XXX. 

Gone now, he has gone to the hills high away, 

Where the first light of morning breaks down into 
day; 

Where the last ray of sunset, straight up from its 
fountain, 

Leaves a lingering star on the brow of the moun- 
tain ; 

Where to g-reet his return, in that reojion unknown, 



AT HIS MOUNTAIN HOME. 37 

Are the hearts of his choice in the bosom of home ; 
Where sweet the wild vespers make music sublime, 
And the skies are in motion at the marchir.g of 

' time ; 
Up there now to dwell, w^here Nature first found him, 
In the midst of his kindred fond gathered around 

him ; 
With the daisy -dressed wood-nymphs, all curious 

to ken 
The health of the hero. They greet him and then 
They listen intently. 

XXXI. 

And now he relates 
The wrath of great kingdoms, and the conflict of 

states ; — 
How armies had gathered, again and again, 
How the tramp of the cohorts had shook the vast 

plain ; 
Huge navies, wide -sweeping the ocean afar, 



38 THE EAGLE. 

And how they had thundered the terrors of war ; — 
How of late, in the tempest of battle loud roaring, 
That moved mighty Nations and draped them in 

mourning, (^^) 
The oppressed had found freedom, how treason had 

quailed, 
The wrong had been punished, and the right hath 

prevailed. 

XXXII. 

Then how at Wamesit, of ancient renown, 

He'd made some acquaintance; — In sight of the 

Town 
Had pinioned the tombstone of heroes as high 
As when on the cedar he stood in the sky ; 
Where of old he had witnessed the red man and 

tribe. 
Deep then in the forest, high then on the tide 



SAW SATAN. 39 

Of the Concord's calm confluence. Well fed at 
this fountain 

Of shad in the jMerrimac, and Moose on the moun- 
tain, 

He 'd seen Wonalancet. (^^) Proceeds to portray 

The contrast of ages, the past with to-day; 

Where the war-whoop resounded, where the savage 
then trod. 

Stood the valiant old Eliot at the altar of God. 

How different the landscape ! strange wonder it 
kindles. 

The wigwam had changed to a city of spindles I 

XXXIII. 

He tells them, now tearful, how thrice on his way 
Old Pluto had met him and led him astray ; 
And how on that journey he saw one McQuistion, 
He thought 't was the devil ; [they called him a 
Christian.] 



40 THE EAGLE. 

Much like a highwayman, hud tried to decoy him, 
Then daring and dashing, as if to destroy him, 
Pursued him pugnacious, (^) o'er hedge and o'er 

ditches. 
Most rudely assailed him, but ruined his breeches. 
Then how to true honor it turned notwithstanding, 
In mirth they had made it, a misunderstanding. 

XXXIV. 

How next by temptation, of Satan invented, 
He 'fell among thieves,' (*^) and was sorely tormented ; 
IIow tortured in chains, how he struggled for breath. 
And Vsick and in prison,' was nigh unto death ; 
What pains there deranged him, what fears, and 

what fright. 
What dread of the day-time, what dreams of the 

night ; 
Of the dungeon's dark recess, of ghosts lurking there, 
And how he long lingered in the pangs of despair ! 



SEEKS FREEDOM. 41 

XXXV. 

He speaks of the Merchants, who 'd known him 

of old 
Far back in that city wherein we've been told 
He planted the vine. How they came to reclaim 

him, (^) 
Down there at the prison's dark door to unchain 

him. 
List ! list at his story of Christian devotion, 
'T is thus he relates it with tender emotion : 

" When I was an hungered they gave me to eat. 
They brought me, when thirsty, a beverage sweet ; 
When 1 was a stranger they took me within ; 
When nakel they garnished, and saved me from sin; 
When sick and in prison death's terrors to see, 
Down there in a dungeon they visited me. 
To chide the oppressor; 'established my goings,' 



42 THE EAGLE. 

And filled the glad heart to unmeasured o'er- 
flo wings. (^^) 
In the fullness of favor unsparingly spoken, 
In the joys of redemption, dread manacles broken, 
I hail from that dungeon of death and despair. 
The bright beam of morning, the mild mountain air. 
O Liberty! liberty! God -given boon. 
My dream of the night-time, my glory at noon. 
Above 'mid the stars, I will welcome thee ever ; 
Thy charms they enchant me, I will love thee forever." 

xxxvr. 
He said it devoutly, and there to his friends 
Still further discourses to some other ends ; 
He tells them then, how at Wamesit he left 
Ten thousand there, sad at his presence bereft ; 
How reluctant he'd tendered his final farewell 
To the Merchants' that saved him, and labors to tell 



FALLS ASLEEP. 43 

How three times he turned towards the thick gath- 
ered ranks, 

While he winged to the mountain, still giving them 
thanks, 

And how on that way every mile that he flew, — 

Was fraught with the grief of that final adieu. 

XXXVII. 

Now night from the heavens in curtains descended, 
When the talk of our hero had finally ended ; 
His last word hath echoed in a cloud floatinof nisfh, 
And silence pervades the vast realms of the sky ; 
Attended of spirits angelic, well blessed, 
The wood-nymphs retire to their bowers of rest. 
Cool zephyrs, serene to the heart are sweet soothing, 
While the voice of the Siren, o'er the mountain is 

moving. 
Grown weary, the Eaglets, now, peacefully nod. 
And the Sage falls asleep in the care of his God. 



44 THE EAGLE. 

Calm, calmly at rest ! yet he wanders on high 
'Mid the moon -beams of fancy, 'mid stars in the sky ; 
Beyond the dark tempest, triumphant to soar, 
And he dreams of the joys he had tasted of yore, — 
Of landscapes unbounded, sweet highlands of love, — 
On the wild heaving ocean looks down from above. 
The scream of the fish -hawk, the fawn fierce in flight, 
The sad cooing dove, — in the power of his might, — 
Deep wild -woods abounding, tall cedars impart 
A fantasy faithful to the dream of his heart. 
Far upward, yet higher, through faith and delight. 
He seeks the fixed stars, and he follows their light, 
'Till, when the fair dawn had beamed on his breast. 
In sight of high heaven, that land of the blest. 
Above the pale planets, there quivering to soar. 
He turned on the wing — and we saw him no more. 



ZAGONYI'S CHARGE. 

OCTOBER 18, 1861. (2^) 




D^istoric age 
y. Affords a page 

^ Of daring deeds full many, 
But who, for dash 
Of cut and slash, 
Is braver than Zagonyi? 



II. 



Three hundred scamps 
Be-drilled in camps 

Near Springfield in Missouri, 
Defiant there, 
In arms they dare 

Resistance, 't is their glory. 



46 ZAGONYfS CHARGE. 



III. 

Off, fifty miles 

Are sent in files 
The "Body Guard of Fremont,'* 

To expel the foe, 

Or lay him low ; 
A nation doth depend on 't. 

IV. 

Out on their course 

With half the force 
Of foes to be encountered, 

On chosen ground 

Entrenched around. 
To conquer or be CQpquered ; 



In nineteen hours 
They met the showers 

Of whistling buck and bullet ; 
When down a lane 
They sweep in train, 

And leap the fences from it, — 



HEROIC. 47 



VI. 



Onward they dash 

With spur and lash 
Strait through the tented borders, 

And into line 

In nick of time, 
Within the rebel quarters, — 

VII. 

Frantic, they charge 

With quick discharge 
And ouAvard still are dashinjr : 

From side to side 

From sabres wide. 
The lightning sparks are flashing. 

VIII. 

The traitor squads 

As if the gods 
Were seeking their dissection. 

Rush to the town, 

There, scampering down, 
In quest of some protection. 



48 ZAGONYI'S CHARGE. 



IX. 



And there pursued 
In blood imbrued — 

The battle ground enlarges, 
Till none are found 
In all the round 

To brook the fatal charges. 



What dire recoil 

On sacred soil, 
Which arrant knaves encumbered ! 

The rebel dead 

Left in that bed. 
Their gallant foes out -numbered. 

XI. 

The village throng 

Escaped had gone. 
In frightful panic scattered ; 

On the hills, amazed, 

They stood and gazed — 
Abashed at tialtor's shuiohtered. 



VICTORIOUS. 49 



XII. 



All through that ninfht 

Of awful fright 
Were frequent spectral hobblings ; 

And to this day, 

That crimson clay 
Gives heed to ghosts and goblins. 

XIII. 

Yet, many a year 

To pilgrims here 
In freedom's full communion — 

Our earth shall teem 

That war-cry Theme — 
Brave "Fremont and the Union." 




THE LOVE-LETTER. 




ii^g^jpjvi^EBELLION ! direful scourcre of earth ! 
'^/'ik^ In hatred hell had o^iven it birth, 
^g To make of man a Slave, — 

Called forth a force defensive, strong, 
Whose myriads mighty swelled the throng 
Of ike noble and the brave. 



The battle rattled long and loud, 



AT THE BATTLE-FIELD. 51 

Like thunders breaking from a cloud 

That showers o'er the plain 
Dark, deadly hail - storm ; — Earth turned pale, — 
And, quaking, shuddered 'neath the gale 

That swept the world amain. 

Ill 
But when the sun went down that night, 
A star let fall a ray of light 

Amid the dead heroic ; 
It shone upon the face of him, 
Who, there beneath that battle din, 

Had thought for Maggie Moric. 

IV 

For Maggie, when he saw her last, 
On him a lingering look had cast, 
And talked of time to come ; 
When wicked war must needs be o'er, 



52 THE LOVE-LETTER. 

They'd meet as they had met before, 
When twain they would be one. 



His comrades, 'neath that twinkling ray, 
Out from that field of death away. 

Brave, bore him soft and slow; 
True sentinel to such a trust, — 
A soldier guards a soldier's dust, — 

Such truth he could but know. 

VI 

That damp, dark night slow waned away, 
And when Sol reached meridian day. 

The funeral service came ; 
'Twas by the call of muffled drum, 
And march of "brave ones," ready come 

To bury Charlie Crane, 



FROM MAGGIE. 53 

VII 

There in that martial group amid, 
Beside a rough -board coffin lid, 

The chaplain knelt in prayer ; 
He soared on high for hearts at home. 
And fervent prayed for some unknown 

Loved one lingering there. 

VIII 

Ah ! 't was a strange presentiment, 
That o'er the good man's spirit went, 

That led him thus to pray ; — 
To cause that rudest funeral bier 
To be bedewed with many a tear 

Which naught but love could pay. 

IX 

Up from that prayer, — near by him stood 
A post-boy meek, in modest mood. 



54 THE LOVE - LETTER. 

Who in a whisper said, — 
"I have it here, but 'tis m vain, 
It is a letter for Charlie Crane ; 

And Charlie now is dead." — 

X 

Silent, aside, they broke the seal ; 
It was of love, — its last appeal 

From Maggie, far away ; 
The chaplain glanced it sadly o'er, 
Then sealed it up, as 'twas before, — 

'Twas for the judgment day. 

XI 

"That awful day," — no mortal knows; 
Yet pardon me, if I disclose 

What Maggie wrote to Charlie : 
"My Charles," (for thus the letter run,) 
" Of swains to me there is but one ; 

I loved thee ne'er so dearly 



THE DREA-M. '^^ 



XII 



" As now. I had a dream last night ; — 
The light of morn seemed beaming bright 

Above the high -lands hither; 
Where, in the ineriy month of May, 
We hailed at first that gala day 

To gang in love together; 

XIII 

"And where, as then, far down the lawn, 
The lily kissed the early dawn, 

Bright with the azure blending; 
'While proud that distant mountain rill 
Again leaped forth, it glittered stilly 
Along the vale descending. 

XIV 

"To tell what bloom, wh^t flowerets sweet, 
What magic music came to greet 



56 THE LOVE-LETTER. 

Me there, I have not words ; 
The rose with all the flowers besides, 
Glad anthems true of all the tribes, 

And carol of the birds. 

XV 

"The robin tuned his note on high. 
And jay and blue -bird seemed to vie 

In signal ecstasy; 
Triumphant songs they sweetly sung, 
In chorus high, both old and young; 

Sweet Charles, they sung of thee 

XVI 

"In truthful love. Next, far away, 
A war -trump sounded — dread dismay. 

Some fearful ill foreboding, 
Came o'er me then; — and in the vale, 
There lurking stood a specter pale, — 

]My joy, my all exploding ! 



ANGEL VOICES. 57 

XVII 

" Yet high above the mountain range 
Appeared angelic voices strange, 

And grateful, glorious morn; — 
An army then in the distant light 
Loomed up, — and then the clouds of night 

Drooped down on me forlorn. 

XVIII 

"Still there adorned to be thy bride, 
My Charles, I saw thee by my side, 

As if ye were not dead ; 
I raised both arms with dear delight 
To clasp thee, yet, as quick as sight — 

Ye fled, a Phantom shade ! 

XIX 

" Awaking, bounding with a scream, 
Aloud I wept — 'Twas such a dream! — 



58 THE LOVE-LETTER. 

It drowns me deep in sorrow ; — 
Away from war, my darling dear, 
The day of thy discharge is near. 

Come home, come home to - morrow ! 

XX 

"My heart shall leap with joy serene 
To hail thee here, at morn or e'en. 

In manner most becoming; 
I '11 make the gate - way wild with flowers ; 
I '11 know the very midnight hom'S, 

Still waiting for thy coming. 

XXI 

" Up to that promised bridal day, 
My soul, transported, wings away 

To thee, to thee alone ; 
For me and thee what joys to come ! 
To meet, for aye, to be but one — 

Good night, my dear, come home I " 



^^-^^ 



^4 



a 



\ 








111 know tlie very mid-ni^lu liours 



UNSEALED IN HEAVEN. 59 

XXII 

Silent that group, with arms reversed, 
Stood firm. The chaplain turned, immersed 

In thought ; the letter takes, — 
And on that breathless bosom laid it; — 
^^ JVow bury him I'''' (in faith he said it,) 

^^ HeHl read it when he wakes," 

XXIII 

And then, they laid him down at rest, 
With Maggie's message on his breast, 

(Repose more sweet it makes ;) 
And every turf that on him fell. 
In true return it seemed to tell, 

"He'll read it when he wakes." 

XXIV 

Green were the sods they sought; — there, then, 
True faith in God came o'er the men 



60 THE LOVE - LETTER. 

In vision bright and fair ; 
And when they fired their farewell gun, 
Down from high heaven the echo run, — 

"Oh, yes! he'll read it there." 

XXV 

Rebellion dire ! what pangs, what anguish 
Shall touch the once loved heart to languish, 

Through far off coming years ! 
What deep endearments brought to naught ; 
What hopeful joys, what darling thought, 

Are buried deep in tears ! 

XXVI 

How many hearts are dying yet ! 
Bereaved, how can the soul forget 

Her choice companions fair? 
How many letters grateful given — 
Too late for earth, are sealed for heaven ! 

" Unsealed ^^^ they '11 read them there. 



GREENWOOD, 



[Delivered to an assembly of 7 churches, on the heights, at Green- 
wood Grove, Wakefield, Mass., July 14, 1868.] 




N Greenwood's cool and lofty brow, 
^^^ Dame Nature dwells in loveliness ; 

Her dear delights enchant me now, 
O, what a world of wonders this ! 



What mighty power rolled up these hills. 
And scooped the verdant valleys down ; 

That gave due course to a thousand rills, 
That clothed in beauty vill and town; 



62 GREENWOOD. 

ft 
That piled on high yon ocean wave 

To dash it headlong to the shore ; 
And grand, to Earth's creation gave 

Sweet life, and hope, and golden store ! 

Down on the distant past, in vain 
We look that hazy landscape o'er. 

To trace a foot -print, on the plain. 
Of saint and sasfe who've orone before. 

5 

Unchanged, the heavens are blue as then. 
The sun as bright in beauty shines ; 

But where are now the sons of men, 

That basked of yore beneath these pines ? 

6 

Alas ! and where 's the favorite lad 



A LAY or LOVE. G3 

That swung beneath yon branchy bowers P^'^ 
The day -dawn hailed him — now, made sad, 
The vales are deep in fading flowers. 

7 

Up there upon that self- same tree 

To the red -breast plaintive, all day long, 

List ! list that note so fond and free. 
That song for loved ones, absent, gone. 

8 

Is it to me, sw^eet vocal bird, 

Kind heaven sends a message down? 

A lay of love, a kindly word? — 
That song indeed is not thine own ; 

9 

Not thine my inmost heart to move 
To memory fond or mental pain ; 



64 GREENWOOD. 

Not thine to sing of life, or love, 
Or joys we'll never see again. 

10 

Ah ! whence such power to move a tear 
To fall forbidden where I stand? 

From what we see and feel and hear, 
There is another, better land; — 

11 
I see it in the cloud above, 

The sun, and moon, and glittering star; 
In the vast, unnumbered worlds of love, 

That move in grandeur near and far. 

12 

I feel it in a heart that beats 
A god -like purpose day by day; 

A soul that, while I sleep, repeats 
A dream of glory far away ; — 



THE RESURRECTION. (J5 

13 

I hear it whispered in the air, — 

From the worm that takes the vernal wino-, 

In the quaking earth, I hear it there, — 

That death shall resurrection bring ; — 



14 



I trace it in the vesper mild. 

The voice of songsters in the vale. 

That God who sweeps the forest wild, 
His rolling thunders tell the tale. 



15 



Afar, bright breaks a morning ray 
To tint creation's glorious noon ; 

Hail ! hail that vast triumphant day. 
Beyond the terrors of the tomb. 



16 



For aye as now, let Greenwood lend 



66 



GEEENWOOD- 



Sweet inspiration, light, and love ! 
In beauty, earth and sky to blend 
Forever, true to the God above. 



LITTLE NED. 

[An incident at the grave.] 




N the highlands of Hartland, unheeded, 
alone, 
There lived yet in sorrow a widow and 
child ; 
Her son, true and valiant, had wandered from home, 
For his country had called him to the " wilderness " 
wild. 



As well as the matron, he'd loved little ISTed, 
Who had seen but five winters of the world and 
its throng; 



6S LITTLE NED. 

But that son is at rest, his brave spirit hath fled, 
And home from the field they have borne him along. 

3 

And now from the valley, the parish and vill, 
The peasants have gathered, are gloomy in care ; 

A prayer hath ascended, and down from the hill, 
They stand by the grave, waiting tenderly there. 

4 

There lowly the dead lies lowered to rest, 

Where the sere leaves of Autumn embellish the 
ground ; 
Where the wild - bird shall warble a song of the 
blest, 
A\^here Spring shall weave garlands, and love will 
abound. 

5 

Devoutly impressive, the service is said, 



SEES THE SEXTON. 69 

While naught could that mother from weeping 
restrain ; 
Still drowned in deep wonder there stood little Ned, 
Yet heedless, retentless of sorrow or pain. 

6 

He eyed the old sexton, when gently he laid 
The dust to its kindred, half- held at control; 

Then a clod on the coffin fell down from the spade, 
And it startled the boy to the depths of the soul. 

7 

"Old man, you must stop it, I'll kill you, (he cried,) 
If you bury my brother in such a deep hole." 

His fist high -uplifted, with looks that defied — 
Then wailing, he fell, and convulsively sighed. 

8 

Grief, grief like a night -cloud o'ershadowed the 
ground, 



70 LITTLE NED. 

Bemoaning and sighing were heard in the air, 
The men and the maidens were kneeling around, 
And tears fell like rain -drops — but not in de- 
spair. 

9 

For the great God in heaven is Father of all, — 
Bereaves but to cherish, assauges the pain ; — 

The valiant may perish, like the sparrow may fall. 
Yet brother with brother shall meet once asjain. 

10 

There gazing I stood, and thought of the end, — 
Of strange unbelievers, — of what they pretend: 

The proof is within us, — deny if you can, — 
There is in that infant the soul of a man ! 

11 
The sexton was dumb, his spade stood at rest ; 

The priest, glancing upward, broke silence to say 



SORROW AT SUNSET. 71 

A word of condolence, then kindly addressed 
A brief benediction, and the train turned away. 



12 



The shades are beclouding the sun -set afar, 

As the dark - clad procession moves slow up the 
hill ; 

The breath of bleak autumn and the whirlwind of war, 
Full felt in their garments, are frosty and chill. 



13 



There is heart -stricken sorrow in Hartland to nio-ht. 
But the morning will come with sweet promises 
fair ; 
The earth -clods have covered the hero from si^rht. 
Yet there's hope still in God, there is truth in 
his care. 



HAKK! 'TIS A VOICE! 



ARK ! 't is a voice, the voice of spring, 
■^/•%That brings glad tidings on the wing 
-^^ Of songsters far and nigh ! 
It wakes to life the highland grove, ^ 
Entrancing me with tranquil love, 
And glory from on high ! 

II 
That voice, serenely soft and clear,— 

Proclaiming sunny seasons near 

And winter now no more, — 
Bespeaks another, better clime. 



OF THE SONGSTERS. 73 

Of flowery fields, of days divine, 

And treasures there in store. 

Ill 
Why came ye thus, brave little bird? 

What promised joy, what winning word 

Of love or curious cunning, 
Hath called thee forth, both mate and throng, 
Triumphant with angelic song, 

In vast convention coming ; 

IV 

As if for aye to faith inclined, 
Forever proud of partner kind, 

Judicious in selection ; — 
As if to teach the lesson, how 
Ye never violate a vow 

In conjugal aflTection? 

V 

Near now again, from lea or lawn. 



74 HARK ! 't is a voice I 

Ye break my slumbers at the dawn 

In kindly visitation; 
I know ye have a home to seek, 
Some favored native nook unique, 

Some scheme in contemplation. 

VI 

Still, have ye not a nobler end, 
To trace a comrade or a friend, 

Or foot -print hidden hither? — 
Where slumbers still some kindred tribe. 
Before the flood that lived and died. 

That calls ye here together ; — 

VII 

Some queen or king, in sacred song. 
That sang these " banks and braes " along, 

In sight of old Tisquantum ; ^ 
Or hither at a later dav, 



OF THE PILGKIMS. 75 



That chanted loveliest lite away, 



With warblings wild and wanton 



VIII 

Where, then, at morn or eventide, — 
With Pilgrim life in all its pride 

Of holiness from childhood, — 
Alike in love and admiration. 
They worshiped God with adoration 

Here, in their native wild -wood. 

IX 

Ah ! what enchantments thus ye bring 
Of memories dear, to which I cling, 

Down from the far - gone year ! — 
Of sweet remembrances, my own, 
Of darling aspirations flown ; 

And vet ve brino^ them near. 

X 

Sweet little " tenant of the sky," 



76 



HARK ! 't IS A VOICE ! 



In thee our duty we descry, — 

And how, in life's expansion, 
Out from this world's wild winter day, 
Made free, like thee, we'll wing away 



On high to make a mansion. 





THE WOOD -THRUSH. 

[repeoof and the reply.] 
Scene at the door, June 9, 1864. 

MATRON Wood -Thrush built a nest, 
And then sat down to take her rest ; 
While sitting there upon her eggs, 
A snare was tethered to her legs ! 

Ye heartless dogs that did the deed. 
Shall rue it for your cruel greed, 

To cheat and rob the feathered tribe 
Of eggs, and all they have beside ! 

To them, as favorites from above. 
To rove the air, to live and love, 



78 THE WOOD -THRUSH. 

To cheer all nature with a song, 
Both life and liberty belong. 

This bird by no means injured you ; 

With her or hers you 'd naught to do ; 
Cursed be the heart, the hand, the twine, 

That steals away that right divine ! 

Such right most dear, your mother knows ; 

When to her ear this story goes, — 
She'll make ye dance upon ye'r pegs 

With the " ile of birch " about the legs. 

In caution kind, a lesson take; — 
Oh, never prove yourself a rake ! 

But live to learn, and try to make 
The world more happy for your sake. 

(^Little Herman.') We never touched your birds. 
We didn't — we didn't do it. 



TALK AT THE DOOR. 79 

(Hennie.) We never did it. 

(^Leslie.) No siree; we didn't do it; we were 
not there. 

{Little Amy.) Oh, no, sir! It wasn't Hermon, 
nor Hennie, nor Leslie. They never hurt the 
dear little birds. I guess it was Sam Slender- 
grass. They say he used to be up to such trick » ; 
and /think it is just like him. 

Brave little boys! 'tis joy to learn. 
Such crime and cruelty you spurn ; 

'T was not by you that deed was done ; 
I ask your pardon — every one. 

(Little H. with dignity, and crowding both hands 
into his pockets.) Well — we'll pardon ye. 



* To the praise of the boys, except as above, the birds here have 
remained undisturbed. The Oriole now inhabits a nest near onr 
window ; and the little sparrow returns in spring, and fearless as ever, 
feeds upon the crumbs that fall from the hands of its little friend at the 
door. 



LITTLE MAEY TO THE BIRD ! 



Nov. 10, 1866. 




0]\IE again, my little sparrow; 
Autumn whistles drear at last ; 
You'll be absent on the morrow, 
Absent then to shun the blast. 



Who will care for thee to-morrow, 
Downward lonely to the sea, — 

In the haze of heart -felt sorrow, — 
'Mid the danj^ers on the lea? 



WHO WILL FEED THEE? 81 

3 

When thy wings are wandering weary, 
What kind hand will point the way 

Over highlands, bleak and dreary; 
Who will feed thee, far away? 

4 

Years returning, thou hast sought me, 

Glad in summer's cool retreat; 
Best of all the birds, I 've loved thee, 

Friendly, fondly at my feet. 

■ 5 

Here I've listened oft, delighted 

With thy languid, tender lay; 
E'er to me so strongly plighted, 

Dear and dearer every day. 

6 

First, upon the tree -top shady. 



82 LITTLE MARY TO THE BIRD. 

Perched, I saw thee, truly blest ; 
Cozily beside thy lady, 
Happy in a little nest. 

7 

But the fowler, or some weasel, 
Wicked, did that union sever; 

Lone, it left thee on the hazel, 
Sad, forgetting sorrow never. 



Now the icy, bleak November 

Comes to drive thee far from me ; 

Long will I thy love remember, 
Far my blessings follow thee. 

9 

Mother says there's One above us, — 
One that kindly cares for all ; — 




Thus discoursed my little Mary 
With her pet that cloudy day. 
When the winds AArere howling dreary. 
When the wee-bird went away. 



SPARE THAT SPARROW. 83 

From a world unseen, that loves us, 

Will He, heedless, let thee fall? 



10 



Thus discoursed my little Mary 
With her pet, that cloudy day; 

While the winds were howling dreary, 
When the wee -bird went awav. 



11 



Heaven protect and spare that sparrow, 

With paternal tender care, 
From the cruel sportsman's arrow. 

From the hawk and hidden snare! 



12 



Ne'er may dire disease annoy him, 
Nor miasma's poisoned breath; 

Let no viper vile decoy him 

To the yawning jaws of death; 



84 LITTLE MARY TO THE BIRD. 

1 

Save him hence from mental sorrow, 
Mad misgivings, dread despair; 

From forebodings of the morrow, 

While he wanders through the air ; — 

14 

While he flits above the billow, 
Driven by storm beyond the glen ; 

Sad at midnight on the willow. 
Spare that little sparrow then ! 

15 

Let some darling daughter bid him 
Welcome to a shady shore, — 

Give him crumbs, — thus Mamie fed him 
Down beside the kitchen door ; — 

16 

Absent only while the daisies 



LET HIM LIVE. 85 

Drooping lifeless, still remain; 
From that land of many mazes, 
Let him live to come again. 

17 

Older grown, yet we'll be younger, 
When old winter w^anes away, — 

When his icebergs fall asunder. 
Giving place to a golden day. 

18 

Bring us back our days of childhood, 

Happy hence as then to be ; 
Yet the warbler, in the wild -wood, 

Is, they say, more blest than we. 

19 

Bear us upward, Great Jehovah, 

On the pinions of thy wing ! — 
Then shall winter days be over ; — 

Give us there an endless Spring ! 



NEVER HUNCH I 




wo little boys I call to mind, 
The one was selfish Harry, — 
The other generous Johnnie Lynde ; 
At school they had been tutored kind, 
But Harry would be Harry. 



One day reproof broke forth aloud. 

The teacher's brow was stormy ; — 
A word from Johnnie calmed the cloud, 
"I never hunch — if Harry crowd! 
Have mercy, mercy for me ! " 



GIVE HEED ! 87 

8 

Ye men, that toil 'neath sun and cloud 

For. favor, fame or money; — 
If of the past ye would be proud, 
Ye '11 7iever hunch if Harry crowd. 

But wisdom learn of Johnnie. 

i 
Of saint or sage to truth inclined, 

That tread the pathway thorny, 
What hero brave of nobler mind. 
What better Christian can ye find 

Than darling little Johnnie? 



NULLIFICATION. 



S. C. Act, Nov. 27, 1832. 

Do you plunge into Niagara with the expectation of stopping 
half-way down."— Webster. 

A WORD TO Jeff. Feb. 28, 1865. 




ES, Jeff, you tried in thirty-two 
To navigate that mighty deep ; 
But Jackson bluffed the frail canoe, 
And turned aside your craven crew. 



Going down. 



SECESSION. 89 

II 

Prophetic ! — yet how true the thought I 

That, launched on treason's crimson flood, 
Which mad ambition sordid sought. 
Your craft and crew would both be brousfht 
To the bottom down. 
Ill 
In spite of patriots, great and good, 

Secession strange, relentless comes ; * 
Their warning words misunderstood. 
Again embarked, you 're on the flood 
Going down. 

IV 

Out from the slave -code's flagrant rules, 

Which breed the tyrant foul in crime ; 

From treason tutored in your schools. 

In mass sprang forth confederate fools, 

Going down. 
* The Ord. of Secession was passed in South Carolina Dec. 20, 1860. 



90 NULLIFICATION. 

V 

But when you neared the cragged rock, 

Above the dark abyss below ; 
You sought in vain to shun the shock, 
And tried, through foreign aid, to stop 
Half way down ; 

VI 

You cried for help, yet quite in vain, 

From sympathizing traitors here ; 
And at Chicago ^^ tried again 
To hug the shore and shun the pain 
Going down. 

VII 

Your Hunters, too, ^^ came to implore 
Our "Father Abram" for relief; — 
To lend his platform, plank or oar, 
Or tug your cursed bark ashore, 
Half way down. 



SECESSION. 91 

viir 
But Abram heeded not the talk, 

Nor could he make that crime his own ; 
The God of Nature floods the rock, 
Against His laws you ne'er can stop 
Half way down. 

IX 

Beware ! 'T is death you now discern 

Still further on the fearful way ; 
Doomed there to dash the breaker stern. 
Where now the rolling billows turn 
Going down. 

X 

What if old England press the shore, 

Or France embark to intervene 
With friendly aid? — they've tried before, — 
Still louder will that torrent roar, 
Going down. 



92 



NULLIFICATION. 



XI 



Yes, Jeff, too late ! by sad reverse 

You learn indeed how vain the thought 
To stop Niagara's mighty force, 
Or stay God's judgments in their course, - 
Half way down. 





AN ALLEGORY. 

WASHINGTON, OCT. 4, 1863. 

SQUIRREL, gray at infant age, 
On earth began a pilgrimage ; 
Inspired without pre -admonition, 
Unlettered in the world's condition, 
Untaught of Satan, sin or strife, — 
A stranger, on the verge of life, — 
Without a forethought coming here, 
Or agency in such career. 
Yet he had vigor well defined. 
An ardent, patriotic mind ; — 
Had thought and taste for worldly weal, 



94 AN ALLEGORr. 

In grief or joy a heart to feel. 
His lot had fell in northern climes, — 
'Mid brave old oaks and peaceful pines, 
'Mid gentle zephyrs blowing pure, 
Where nature kind gave promise sure 
Of sw^eet content. To him the light 
Of sun and moon and stars of night 
Looked glorious ; and earth and skies 
Seemed but his own — a paradise. 
Of house and home he had no lack, — 
Had acorns plenty, — nuts to crack, — 
Had nectar sweet in the morning dew, 
And aught of care he never knew. 

With what he saw of beast or bird, 
He had no conflict, not a word; 
Nor did a snare beset his track, 
Nor cruel man, nor howling pack. 



BONDAGE. 95 

In sight of beauty, bounty, wealth. 
His breast beat high in hope and health ; 
He roamed the woods and knew no end, 
On every tree -top found a friend; 
To live he loved, and felt as free 
As SqLurrel ought of right to be. 

Replete in boundless comforts here, 
He journeyed on from year to year ; 
Till, in temptations evil time. 
Allured, he left his native pine 
Through vain desire. High on the rocks. 
There laid in wait an open box. 
He ventured in; — thought no mishap, — 
Alas ! alas ! a hunter's trap 
Had caught him fast ! 

'T was prudence, then. 



96 AN ALLEGORY. 

To court contentment in a pen — 
No use to gnaw — or make a muss ! 
Most wisely squirrel reasoned thus, — 
Became a pet, and, sold anon, 
Was borne away to Washington, 
Where many a philanthropic sage 
Beheld him cornered in a cage, 
Admired his feats, deplored his fate, 
But did not help him from the grate. 

Still round and round he turned the wheel. 
And through long years began to feel 
The pangs that flow from life misspent, — 
A broken heart and discontent. 

At length, one day from the southern sky, 
A storm arose ; the gales blew high. 
And burst the door of the wiry grate, 



FREEDOM. 97 

That hung beside the garden gate. 

Then from the cage, through shrub and tree, 

O'er hedge and fences, frantic free, 

He bounded forth ; jet sought in vain 

To find his native air again. 

Next day from church, while passing down 
Beside the highway of the town, 
I saw a tree, — and noted how 
A squirrel trembled on the bough ; 
How men and boys, in motley crowd. 
With barking dog, and threatenings loud. 
Hurled brick-bats dire, througli branch and bud 
To thrust him out and shed his blood. 
While one a leader seemed to be. 
With club, full half-way up the tree. 
To strike him down ; and all for naught ; 
'Twas thus the fugitive they sought. 



98 AN ALLEGORY. 

I turned and said, — [they stopped to hear,] 

"Young men, you know not what you do! 
Why seek that squirrel's life, as dear 

To him to-day, as yours to you? 
He is no trespasser in fault 

On anything of yours to feast ; 
No culprit vile to make assault 

On life or limb of man or beast ; 
But fain in fairness would endeavor 

Sweet life and freedom here to save. 
These gifts of nature, dear forever, 

It is but just for him to crave. 

He holds a heart in love as true, 
That beats as high in hope or fear; 

Can feel a pang as well as you, 
Or in affliction drop a tear. 

His eye can scan what you intend, 



MORAL. 99 

A foe in every movement see ; 
Yet would he greet you as a friend, 
Were man but just and kind as he." 

"That's so," said Jo; "I pkinly see!" 
And down he lumbered from the tree ; 
The dog, he saw himself to blame. 
And dropped his shaggy tail in shame ; 
The guilty throng, having naught to sav, 
Clung to their clubs, but went away. 

Down on the trunk, now feeling free, 
The squirrel chippered, greeting me 
With grateful noddings ; as it were. 
He kindly said, — "I thank you, sir!" 
From thence a park became his home, 
To wander on through life alone ; 
Yet oft whene'er I go that way, 



100 



AS ALLEOOKY 



It moves me much to hear him say, — 
Still nodding down from the branchy fir, 
"I thank you, sir! — / thank you, sir! 




OF WASHINGTON CITT, 

A letter to a little Miss, May 17, 1862. 



DOMESTIC AND DESCRIPTIVE. 



S^ AVING written to Caddie, I must not forget. 



4^^ A message to Mary, my proud little pet, 
'^■^^^ Still waddling and wandering from parlor to^ 
kitchen, 
Then out round about, pursuing a chicken. 
Or down in the garden for some little notion. 
Or up in the arbor, forever in motion, — 



To gaze at the shadows now moved by the breeze, 
And chanting with birds as they sing in the trees, — 



102 OF WASHINGTON CITY. 

OPt peeping at beauties that Nature discloses, 
And bringing to mother some sweet -smelling posies. 

Just now, little ladj, I wish you were here 
To see many strange things, surprisingly queer, 
Some grand and majestic, some novel and pretty. 
All in and about the wide Washington city. 

Here sits the proud soldier, the first that you meet. 
On horseback, full armed, at the turn of the street ; 
Now near him, behold, oft repeating a song, 
A "grinder," for pay, pulls a monkey along. 

Then up the broad Avenue, at every street crossing, 
Some poor little orphan a broomstick is tossing ; 
With one hand extended, from Johnnie or Jennie, 
You'll hear the sad call, — Please, give me a penny . 
We reach the rotunda, the pride of the nation, 
It opens a view to the works of creation ; 



IN SIGHT OF DIXIE. 103 

From its lofty corridors are wonders, you know, 
The "Washington monument westward below ; 
Artful in beauty, vast buildings abound, 
Of granite and marble majestic around. 

Still, far in the distance, as fancy delights. 

Are Georgetown, Fort Ellsworth, and Arlington 

Heights ; 
A mansion sequestered, the homestead of Lee, 
Who, at the cost of % fortune, a rebel could be. 

Down there is "old Dixie," in treason and wron«-, 
With a Wise and a Letcher to help her along. 
Wide above the Potomac, on the highlands afar, 
Are the white -tented armies and breastworks of war. 

We wake to their music; — far distant it trills, — 
From war -trump, and bugle, it breaks from the hills 



104 OF WASHINGTON CITY. 

Ill Strains strange and varied, above dread alarms. 
It brings to our bosoms the breath of its charms. 

Still here are the bodies of Congress in session, 
For the law of the land, to give it expression ; 
In duty to rancorous rebels, to rub 'em, 
And down on the "traitors " in hatred to snub 'em. ^^ 

Next note the "Old Castle," alive as it stands, 

'T is the home of a tribe of the late contrabands ; 

They have fled from the foe, from the land of op- 
pression, 

Their chains are all broken, 'tis the fruit of secession ; 

'Tis the key-note of peace, the bright dawn of 
salvation — 

'T is the OTeat God of heaven who ruleth the nation ! 

Now down from the dome we wend our way back ; 
There 'a many a strange straggler invading the track, 



GIDDY THRONGS. 105 

Great groups of " street loafers " in loud conversation. 
The odds and the ends of a live Yankee nation. 

Here swaggers the sailor, of late come to land, 
Here, too, is old Sambo with whip in his hand ; 
Here's Dinah with fruit and with cakes made to sell. 
But for what other purpose no mortal could tell. 

Here's a rude, noisy newsboy, in haste rushing in; 
To sell you the " Storr " and the " Re-puh-U-hin ; " 
If he talks of a battle or a vote at election. 
How can ye believe him, so full of deception? 

Do not wonder, in rambling, if you chance to behold 
A faithful " old servant," that used to be sold ; 
A tall, limping negress, with all of her charms, 
In the care of her baby, borne along in her arms ; 
Some queer little donkey, or grave looldng mule, 
On his journey down South, as they say, to keep school. 



106 



OF WASHINGTON CITT. 



But evening approaches, no more can be seen, 
By reason of night - shades that now intervene ; 
Good-bye, little Mary, with blessings adieu! 
Farewell, to the household, as well as to you. 




BULL RUN. 

July 19, 1861. 

HISTORICAL. 




^ constant cry of do or die, 

[On, on to Richmond was the shout,] 
Evinced the spirit of metal and merit 
To stamp the rebellion out. 

The mass, all right, were full of fight 

Abram the people heeded ; 
But, sad for us, to quell the muss, 

A marshal chief was needed. 



108 BULL EUN. 

With soldiers drilled, and squadrons filled, 
A move at length was ordered ; 

With Scott at the head, McDowell led 
The loyal army onward. 

Up at Bull Run, the battle begun, 

'T was ours for every reason ; 
But Johnston came and "blocked the game,' 

They called it "Patter's treason." ^^ 

Fresh troops combined against the line. 

And turned the tide of battle ; 
Both horse and foot reeled round about, 

In broken ranks " skeedaddle." 

Our strong reserve had little nerve 

To stay the massive numbers ; 
It lacked the spunk (for Miles was drunk,) 

To do such magic wonders. 



THE RETREAT. 109 

Too much the foe had suffered now, 

To follow up his chances, 
Never a force was frightened worse, 

Save panic stricken Yankees. 

And yet they fly ; and in the sky 

Are rumblings, roar and rattle ; 
Far down the way, wide scattered, lay 

Mixed implements of battle. 

The Congressman, ah ! how he ran ! 

And the London Times ^* benighted ; 
*T would make you laugh, to see such chafl" 

So fearfully excited. 

O'er dell and ridge, and through Long Bridge, 

They urge their way in masses ; 
Both black and white, in equal fright, 

Among the mules and asses. 



110 BULL EUN. 

At Washington, thej all had come, 

Exposed to eveiy slander ; 
And little Mack was ordered back. 

To be their next commander. 

He drilled the troop, and cheered high hope. 

In manners most inviting ; 
Favored of fame, he tried to train, — 

Brave in all — but fighting. 



When the smoke disappeared from the battle-ground, 
An oflficer over that field rode round ; 
And findhi^' a "run-awa?/^' hid in a hole, 
Beseechingly pr(;ni|): he sought a parole, — 
But liL'ard no answer, — 



THE SKULKER. Ill 

"March back," said the Chief, "to your rightful 

ranks ! 
And away with all of your cowardly pranks ! " 
The soldier returned neither bullet nor blows, 
But sneer ingly touched his thumb to his nose, — 
Exclaiming, — (as if to a clown or an elf,) 

"No, you do n't. 
Old fellow, you want this hole yourself!" 





DUPONT AT PORT ROYAL, 



Nov. 7, 1861, 




f NAYAL fleet comes next, to greet 
The ear of patriots loyal ; 
Old Dupont leads to daring deeds 
In battle, at Port Royal. 



It had to brave the winds and wave, 

In most terrific action ; 
And many a sail by storm and gale, 

Were driven to distraction. 



THE STORM AND THE CONFLICT. 113 

Clear out of sight, when fearful night 

Had left the lofty ocean, 
All of that host were deemed as lost, 

Save one old ship, in motion. 

Yet all but one, still upward borne, 

The angry tempest weathered ; 
And each, in time, wheeled into line, 

In battle order gathered. 

Now, on the way, they reach the bay, 

All in a circle forming. 
While many a sail, with iron hail, 

The troubled town are storming. 

What murderous dash, the fire and flash 

Of war -ships, belching thunder 
On fiery forts, whose rough reports 

Explode their guns asunder I 



114 DUPONT AT rORT ROrAL. 

From boast and brag, they strike their flag, 

AYhich Yankees are assailing ; 
In fearful doubt, they skulk about, — 

The federal force prevailing. 

So goes the field, the weak must yield 

To stronger pulse and power ; 
By a giant blow, as rebels know. 

They are weakened every hour. 




THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD 
INSPERES HOPE. 

Washington, D. C, May 10, 1862. 




IS Sabbath morn, and man is quiet, 
The sun emits congenial rays ; 
All things on earth are moving by it, 
Rejoicing in a thousand ways. 

I hail, with joy, that king of light, 
The Author of this vernal morn ; 

Whose genial rays "exclude the night," 
And foster life in every form. 



116 THE LIGHT OF THE WORLD 

c 

Fit emblem of a Sovereign Power, 

Who holds the spheres high at command ; 

Whose unexhausted blessings shower, 
From day to day, o'er all the land. 

Great Parent ! grant us briojhter beams 
Of light, refulgent from Thy Throne ! 

And let a nation's fettered dreams 
Awake to freedom, yet unknown I 

Dispel that crimson, lowering cloud, 
Now pendant o'er the world around ; 

Forgive the sin that cried aloud. 

Like Abel's blood, up from the ground. 

Thy justice frowns, the nations weep; 

Thy power shall break the tyrant's chain ; 
O teach us faith, contrition deep, 

And bring us back to Thee again ! 



INSPIRES HOPE. 117 

In Thine own time, great King of grace ! 

We '11 hail Thy coming from above ; 
Descending through the clouds apace, 

In healing beams of Peace and Love. 




THE MONITOR. 

March 9, 1862. 

[The first appearance of a Monitor at sea, was eventful in the his- 
tory of naval battles. The war - ship Merrimack had appeared at 
Hampton Roads, had sunk the Cumberland, had overcome the war - 
ship Congress, and had stranded the Minnesota when night came on. 
Early, next morning, the Monitor came to the conflict, assailed and 
crippled the Merrimack, and, thereby, the Federal craft were saved 
from impending destruction.] 




EAR Fort Monroe, a startling blow 
sft- ^^i Was struck with much disaster 

To the naval fleet; — it was a feat 

Of trial to be master. 
Old Merrimack, just from the dock, 



AT THE CONFLICT. 119 

Came clad in iron armor : — 



The Cumberland, though strongly armed, 

And Congress, could not harm her; 
And the Minnesota belched her quota 

Of ponderous shot to smash her. 
But quite in vain, such end to gain, 

No naval force could thrash her. 
Her bolted side did but deride 

The cannon's belching thunder, 
As if all craft of Yankee draft, 

Were but a stupid blunder. 

Not far away, coming down the bay. 

Our Monitor advances ; — 
Say,— what is that? — "'tis a chaze" cries Pat, 

As at the craft he glances. 
Mysterious bark ! 't was not an ark, 

Nor ship of huge dimension ; 



120 THE MONITOR. 

But, in their view, a mere canoe. 

Of " yankeedom " invention. 
At once they pour a thunder shower 

Of shot and shell upon it ; 
But all in vain, that fearful aim 

Makes no impression on it. 
It, nearing, brings some weighty things, — 

A dose for a rebel dinner, — 
And dealt in squibs, that broke the ribs 

Of the iron -plated sinner. 

Such heavy hail soon made her quail, 

And swim for other quarters ; 
'Twas of no use for such a goose 

To try to rule these waters. 

Night bears away a gloomy day 

To the crippled confederation ; 
Down, over that vale, it tells a tale 



THE RESULT. 121 

Of death and consternation. 
While North it bore, the rattle and roar 

Of the trumpet rehearsed the story, 
And liigh o'er the world, the old Flag unfurled, 

Fair freedom, God, and glory ! 




mm 



THE DREAM. 



Washington, May 12, 1862. 



TO LITTLE 0. 



^ 



£>» 




VE thought of thee when far away, — 
Have dreamed of home ; — and light and 



gay, 



Thy little feet, as e'er before, 
Seem patting all about the floor. 



And here, as there, when cares invade, 
And seize upon this heart and head, — 



THE DREAM. 123 

O who could now my spirit win, 
But little "Caddie" coming in? 

3 

If pain or panic filled the frame, 
Or fever burning on the brain, 
What then could calm the soul within? 
'T was little Caddie coming in. 

4 

When noisy war or fearful fight 
Brinofs darkness sad in a dream at night, 
What sight or sign doth then beguile? 
*Tis that bewitcliing little smile. 

5 

Or, when 'mid buried joys I roam, 
In direst thought, bereaved, alone. 
What can assuage my sorrow keen? 
O list ! that little voice, serene. 



124 THE DREAM. 

6 
In vision bright; it brings good cheer 
From home and hearts forever dear, 
And teaches wisdom, kindness, love, 
As by an angel from above. 

7 

Sweet vision ! — lost in early day ! 
Life, like a dream, doth wane away ; 
I wake to scan the journey o'er. 
Earth's genial joys to join no more, — 

8 

Yet, far away, in a spirit sphere. 
Still glancing backward, homeward here, 
O, then, unseen, I'll thee beguile. 
And greet my "Caddie" with a smile. 



ARLINGTON. 



ADVERTISEMENT. 



Washington, D. C, having been the great central point between 
two mighty, contending powers of the four years' rebellion, has, 
within it, and around it, many tragic as well as historical points of 
interest. But the brief Epic which succeeds this note has special ref- 
erence to but one of them ; and that one becomes significant, mostly 
as one of its many results. 

It is now the Uh of March, 1869. The conflicts of past years are 
beginning to be ignored, and the great American General is inaugu- 
rated to the Presidency. Late in the afternoon, we take the railway 
for Georgetown, and thence proceed on foot to visit " Arlingt n 
Heights." On the high bridge above the Potomac, we make a mo- 
ment's pause ; the waves are rolling beautifully beneath me ; the sky 
above is serene, and the sun is beginning to fall below the hills 
On my left, to the east of the river, at the distance of two miles, 



126 AELINGTON. 

"Washington City, now made alive by a hundred thousand strangers, 
with its stately edifices, lofty Capitol, and Goddess of Liberty, looms 
up. On my right, to the westward of this *' Modern Jordan," about 
the same distance from it, standing in plain sight, are " Arlington 
Heights," crowned by the antique mansion of the late rebel General 
Lee, surrounded by spacious groves of Oak, and literally made white 
by the sepulchral urns, or insignia of upwards of 20,000 soldiers, 
brought from the neighboring battle fields of the rebellion. As we 
pass from the bridge at Georgetown up to and over that city of the 
dead, objects of intense interest present themselves, and leave an im- 
pression not easy to describe, nor soon to be forgotten. 

DEDICATION. 

To the Surviving Armies of the Republic, this " Walk within 
the Shades,''^ is respectfully inscribed — by the Author. 



AKLINGTON. 

A WALK WITHIN ITS SHADES. 

-OTOMAC rolls her fountains down, 
^ Deep gliding 'neath the shades that crown 
My theme of contemplation ; 
While night begins to chase away 
The living throngs and proud display 
Of the great inauguration. 

High now above her waters mild, 
I stand, and list the lingerings wild 
Of a Nation in commotion; 




128 ARLINGTON. 

Yet heedful how the hand of God 
Moves all the kingdoms, as a flood, 
To a deep, unbounded ocean. 

Here I survey the hight of lands. 

Where, thronged with towers, bright beaming stands 

The stately dome of Washington ; 
While westward, on the other side, 
Beyond a tearful Jordan tide, 

Stand high the shades of Arlington. 

To Arlington my foot - steps tend ; 
Now, turning hence, I meet a friend, — 

Inquire the distance to it ; 
He answers, lifting high his staff, 
" To Arlington ? — a mile and a half, — 

Near night, ye can not do it. 

"The road is down the river shore, 
Then, further on a mile or more, 



THE SPECTER. 129 

Ye '11 take the gateway on it ; 
Then fur above, 'mid light and shade, 
Ye '11 find the fields of valiant dead, 

Eternal there upon it. 

" Go back," he said, " and take the day ; " 
Untimely specters haunt the way. 

When night lets fall her curtain ; 
There, where rebellion rose at first, 
Where slavery, doomed of God, was cursed. 

They strangely stroll, uncertain. 

" 'T is said, they hold sepulchral care, 
Seraphic in attendance there. 

Above the stars high standing ; 
Then, silent in the murky night 
Descending, oft emitting light, 

Their golden wings expanding. " 



1 30 ARLINGTON. 

"Why care," said I, "for ghost or elf? 
How soon ye '11 turn to one yourself, 

More worthy of your minding." 
The sun beyond the hills had gone ; 
The stranger turned, and I trudged on, 

Alono^ the rio^ht bank windino^. 

Then, on the right hand, I behold 
A hill that glitters white, like gold, 

The day -dawn dwells upon it ; 
Up thither, winding, bent with care, 
Instinctively, my brow is bare 

To the sainted soldiers on it. 

Here, side by side, kind, nobly laid, 
The rebel and the loyal dead 

Eest equally together ; ^^ 
No vain distinction gilds the gloom, 



THE INSCRIPTION. 131 

Nor pomp, nor pride invades the tomb 
That holds the hero hither. 

Half halting, 'mid the sainted throng, 
In the pebbled path I pass along 

At the foot of the soldier sleeping ; 
Life's noblest history, brief and brave, 
I trace it, lettered on the grave 

In careful, kindest keeping. 

Grand, grateful record ! true to tell, 
Both where he fought and where he fell 

In battle for the nation ; 
As well the daring he had done, 
As well where once he had a home, 

His name, his rank and station. 

And this is all. Yain wealth may try 
To rear her monuments on high. 



132 ARLINGTON. 

In gorgeous grandeur clever; 
But where the balmy woodlands sigh, 
And the dead are equal far and nigh, 

Rest — rest is sweeter, never! 

We pass them by, six thousand here. 
Still further on to persevere. 

To the gateway thither going ; ^^ 
Then up a winding way to wend, 
'Mid aged oaks, whose branches bend 

To the breeze of heaven blowing. 

Spacious, majestic, leafless now, 

"Dame Nature," true, had taught them how 

To stand a wintry trial ; 
Yet, faithful, still to tell us how 
Each honored leaf, each brave old bough 

Is frauffht with self-denial. 



THE DIRGE. 133 

Cool now the zephyrs, pure and light, 
Begin to play the dirge of night 

In strange, enchanting chorus ; 
And every step that leads us on 
Awakes to thought, — "companions gone," 

They glide in groups before us. 

While oft that distant day -dawn hill. 
Back through the tree -tops gleaming still. 

Looms up in prospect thither ; 
There, earth and sky in sorrow meet, 
Yet do they hold communion sweet 

In tranquil love together. 

Up, now weVe reached a giant oak; 
My guide beginning, briefly spoke, 

An incident expounded ; — ^^ 
How Scott came up to talk to Lee, 



134 ARLINGTON. 

How neighed his steeds beneath this tree. 
As if a war -trump sounded, 

They listened wild ! How long he staid 
By reason, prayerful, to dissuade 

From purpose vain, infernal. 
That rebel chief; and how, anon, 
He left him, deep in thought, alone, 

With a sad good -night, eternal. 

Then coy, adown the woods away. 
Lest treason, lurking, might betray 

Him, homeward from the mansion. 
How then the Rebel sat all night. 
Pale, pondering till his candle light 

Died out in day's expansion. 

And how, at length, ambition's sway 
Preponderating, paved the way 



THE SLAVE -PEN. 135 

'Gainst reason to demur, 
Misled him thus ; and then his home, 
Vast, proud in wealth, to fame far known. 

Became a sepulcher. 

Thus talked the guide. Still higher, then 
We'd passed the cook-house, and the pen 

Where once the slave in sorrow 
Had tugged and toiled his journey through ; — 
Unfettered freedom never knew. 

Yet, hopeful of the morrow. 

Had prayerful lived a languid life ; 
Weaned of the world and worn of strife. 

Earth's toils unpaid had slain him. ^^ 
Dread then the wrath of God, for sin 
In fearful judgments fell on him 

Who had the heart to chain him. 



136 ARLINGTON. 

Eternal frosts, with deadly blight, 

From the heavens above, fell down that night, 

When Lee took marching orders ; 
Sweet fields no more could bloom to bear. 
Nor tender vine, with vintage rare, 

Had orrovvth within these borders. 

Then a crimson cloud, like fire and hail. 
Swept o'er the world ! Dread storm and gale, 

Brought conflicts unexpected ; 
And ere the skies had ceased to frown. 
These garden walls came crumbling down, 

No more to be erected. 

From thence decay, in broad expansion, 
Like rancorous rust, invades the mansion, — 

Its proud, plantation glory ; 
And nought is left of former days, 



THE NIGHT-WATCH. 137 

Save the boding owl that hoots her lays 
In grief, to tell the story. 

We Ve reached the highlands, passed the brow, 
Amid the shade -trees, opening now 

To another field impressive ; ^^ 
In sight of thirteen thousand more, 
Alike in order as before. 

There gallant graves, successive, 

Loom up, in boundless whiteness shone, 
And far and near, erect, alone. 

The night - watch stands on duty ; 
While, on the way to vill and town. 
Sweet stars came up, when the sun went down. 

They twinkle bright in beauty. 

Still near me, on the left, behold. 

Two thousand more, their names untold. 



138 ARLINGTON. 

Together hither slumber ; 
No native hamlet, house nor home, 
Nor loved one kind to earth is known, 

Of all their sainted number. 

Strangers, indeed ! but no less brave 
In brunt of battle, there they gave 

Sweet life to treason's havoc ; 
From bleakest bloody fields they've come, 
Out from the shades of old Bull Run, 

And down the Rappahannock. 

Immortal ! yet at peace for aye, 
Earth has a treasure 'neath this clay. 

Alike, she hath no other; 
For here her bravest sons are laid, 
And here a nation's tears are paid, — 

Each heart hatli here a brother. 



THE MEMORIAL. 139 

And here 's a meek memorial stone, 
Bedecked with cannons high, alone, 

On guard, in grandeur common ; 
They Ve thundered loud the vales along, 
Have blazed in battle brave and strong, 

But now keep silence solemn. 
t 
Brisk blow, ye bleak winds, 'bove the brow. 
Enchant the oaks for aye, as now, 

Breathe mild and balmy whispers ; 
The prowess of Earth's noblest braves, 
From the nether skies in plaintive praise, 

Bring harps and holy vespers ! 

And higher let creation's cares 
Inspire the spheres to vocal airs. 

For deeds of noble daring ; 
That a giddy world may learn and know. 



140 ARLINGTON. 

While countless ages come and go 
True valor, thus dechu-ing. *^ 

But who are these, meandering slow, 
In sable garments, bending low, 

Of spirit burdened, blighted, — 
Deep in the fields at shaded urn, 
Or down the way, as if to learn 

A lesson, here benighted? 

In truth, 'tis but the ties of love, 
The hapless, hopeless heart doth move, 

AUures it while it wanders ; 
Far from a cabin, prairie home. 
An aged father here hath come, — 

Beneath a tree he ponders. 

And further still in the branchy glade, 



THE PRAYER. 141 

Where many a valiant son is laid, 

A mother finds an altar — 
Is kneeling low — I heard her prayer; 
'^eath northern skies, she came from there, 

Yet had no heart to falter. 
Down from that care that cradled him, 
A vital spark doth burn within, — 

The God of nature gave it ; 
Come life or death, 'tis true, the same, 
At the grave it kindles to a flame, — 

Our dear old mothers have it. 

Still deeper, 'neath the shades between, 
A daughter pale is wandering seen, 

A lad alone attends her ; 
And there, above a mossy mound, 
A household name at length is found ; 

Sad thought begins to rend her. 



112 ARLINGTON. 

Much more, the boj inclines to talk, 
For he with the father used to walk — 

We list, the little lisper, — 
Imploring the maid with mien sincere, 
" My papa ! does he know I'm here ? 

I thought I heard him whisper ! " 

Ah ! is it true the dead at rest. 

With tenderest thought and knowledge blest, 

Still heed our wayward walking? 
Though strange to earth, God knows it well, 
How many truths a child may tell, 

Whene'er you hear him talking. 

'T is late ! The groups have left the ground, 
As they were wDnt at daylight down. 

Who'd firmer steps, yet faster; 
Still lingering long, inclined to abide, 



THE widow's dog. 14o 

A lady and her dog beside, 
The widow of his master. 

And now I turn to look at Tray, 

A tale we'd heard of him one day, — 

[T was no unfounded tattle ;] 
How firm he 'd followed, prompt and warm, 
Close to his master, 'mid the storm 

That shook the field of battle ; — 

How the master fell at one of the rounds, — 
Then how he licked his dying wounds, 

And then laid down beside him ; — 
And when, next day, they buried him low. 
Old Tray refused away to go ; 

In truthful trust abiding. 

'T was long — 'twas many a trial day, 
Ere the lone widow found her way 



144 ARLINGTON. 

To the field of dread disaster; 
Dark, humid nights of storm and hail 
Had intervened. And she grew pale, 

Yet came to find the master. 

Long, long she wandered, none could tell 
Where the hero laid nor where he fell. 

And daylight was departing ; 
While tearful, thence to turn away, 
She heard a voice, — 'twas the same old Tray, 

He hailed her howling, barking; — 

The instinct of his nature rare. 

His head was high to the tainted air, 

As if in expectation ; — 
His eye, his ear, his faith expressed. 
He ran, he flew to greet the guest 

To hail her visitation. 



THE SAI.UTATION. 145 

Three times he crouched upon the ground, 
And three times more he made a bound, 

Then whining, told the story ; 
And then he turned, and led the way, 
Where did her hidden treasures lay, — 

The end of earthly glory. 

Cold were the curtains overhead. 
And cold the clods that bent his bed, 

Above the master's ashes ; 
Yet there, when Tray laid down again, 
A ray of hope, from the heavens it came, 

Beneath a cloud it flashes I 

Great God of grace, of love profound, 
Could we to Thee as true be found. 

Thy frown we 'd never fear it ; 
Dread war hath waned, the years go by,. 



i 1^ ARLINGTON. 

That treasure still is hidden nigh, 

And the widow's dog stands near it. *^ 

Then next we come to a crumbling stone, 
Brave names are here, historic known. 

Of ancient men and mothers ! *^ 
Deep in the wild -wood, there is one, 
Oood "Mary Eandolph Washington," 

Afar from all the others. 

'Twas but the choice that love provokes, 
To dwell in the midst of crowded oaks, 

Whose branches, exemplary. 
Strive but to weave, as the years go round, 
A hedge in the heavens, a wreath profound, 

In honor true to Mary. 

Within huge walls, at Heaven's will, 
While ages roU, 'tis Mary still, — 



THE ANGELS. 147 

No trespassers offend her ; 
An awful spell pervades the woods ; — 
In spite of war, or storm, or floods, 

The wood-nymphs proud, attend her. 

I list to hear ''them in the trees 
With angels talking, true to please, 

Down from that world above her ; 
From there are spirits w^hispering nigh, 
I hear them as the gales go by. 

In the faith of friend and lover. 

How beauteous is the gateway here,' 
That leads from earth to heaven, so near, 

It meets my finite vision ; 
It spans the whirling spheres afar. 
The midnio'ht moon, the shootin'x star, 

That lingers in transition. 



148 ARLINGTON. 

I see it above the distant day, 
The northern lights, the milky way, 

Grand, glorious in reflection ! 
Pervading the shades that night hath found, 
Through the vaulted sky, bespangled round, 

Sweet dawn in God's perfection ! 

Oh, Father Jove ! in whom we live, 
We hail thy presence ! and we strive 

To bring Thee true oblation ; 
For this indeed is hallowed ground, 
Indeed, our pilgrim feet have found 

Thine earthly habitation ! 

Spare' us ! To Thee, O lead us near, 
Xo more to wander in a sphere 

Of warfare, or of weeping; 
Earth's fearful, fatal fetters break, 



AT THE GATE. 149 



Abundant in Thy grace, O take 
Us to Thy kindly keeping I *^ 

Weary, the guide inclines to go. 
Meandering through the woods below. 
Stands at the gate, is beckoning now, 

Expostulates, me pondering ; 
Turning, advancing at command, 
With more than thanks I fill his hand, 
While silence reigns o'er all the land. 

To me, home wandering. 

Sedate, impressed ; while now and then, 
A siren voice invades the glen, 
A peaceful prayer, a trite amen. 

Goes up to the gracious Giver ; 
And though the Owl is moping still, 
And Death is dreadful on the hill, 



150 ARLINGTON. 

God's candle lights the heaven's fOl ; 
They burn upon the river. 

Back, o'er its winding waters deep, 
Where lives a Nation, left to weep, 
With giddy throngs, I fell asleep 

From care ; at rest, reclining, 
Yet dreamed of what the heart may know, 
What makes for weal, what makes for woe, 
Of Earth's uncounted ills, that flow 

From Satan, and from sinning; — 

Wandering, and yet to faith inclined. 
Drowned deep, o'erwhelmed in darkness, blind ; 
Awake at morn — 'tis sweet to find 

What grace alone can give us ! 
The clouds of night away had whirled, 
The king of day stands o'er the world, 



m PEACE. 

Ten thousand banners float unfurled, 
And the God of heaven is with us 1 



151 




THE 



BRIDE OF BURTON, 

VICTORY, 



OTHER POEMS. 

BY 

ROBEET B. CAYERLT. 

THREE VOLUMES IN ONE. 
VOL. n. 



MY NEIGHBOK AND FKIEND, 

ELIAS JSTASON', 

eloquent and profound ; 

Valiant in Faith, Truth, and Charity; 

this volume 

IS EESPECTFULLY INSCRIBED, 

R. B. C. 




THE BRIDE OF BURTON. 



"Chocorua* goes to the Great Spirit; his curse stays with the white mant 
The prophet sank upon the ground still uttering inaudible curses. And there 
they left his bones to whiten in the sun." [*Pronounced, Chec-cor-ncah.'\ 




HE tired hounds at length are sleeping, 
^And over our tent, wild night is weeping 
Dark dews in the Burton wood ; 
While from her distant radiant fountain, 
The queenly Moon lights up the mountain. 
Where brave Chocorua^ stood. 
157 



THE BRIDE OF BURTON. 



n. 



To this the ills of earth had brought him, 
'Twas here the white man sought and fought him, 

In daring, dashing numbers ; 
From whence desj^air had deigned to dwell, 
Chocorua wounded, faltering fell. 

And, here in death he slumbers. 

m. 

Entranced beneath thy cragged peak, 
Creation vast ! — thy summit bleak, 

Thy varied vales I ponder; 
I reverence Him who shaped the hills. 
These silvery lakes, those glittering rills, 

Wild, in a world of wonder ! 

IV. 

Up 'neath the stars, yon glimmering slope, 
Piled range on range, they fill the scope 
158 



CHOCORUA AND IIIS TEIBE. 

Of man's enchanted vision; 
Bold there above a heaving sea, 
For aye to vie in majesty, 

Earth's grandest, proud position ! 

V. 

Life and its joys Chocorua sought, 
His tribe he trained, as Nature taught, 

Mild in these magic mountains ; 
With bow and arrow known of yore, 
Vast wood -lands wild, he hunted o'er. 

Dame fed him at her fountain. 

VI. 

Of what wild waters yield, in view, 
Chocorua launched his light canoe 

On many a rapid river; 
Fierce falcons faltered in the air, 
And the wild deer bounded from his lair 

At the rattle of his quiver. 
159 



THE BRIDE OF BURTON. 

vn. 

From boyhood brave, a priest he roved; 
Faithful at heart he fervent loved 

Keoka, ne'er to sever; 
No happier pair could earth produce, 
Keoka true — and a proud pappoose 

Inspired that wigwam ever. 

vm. 

"With truth, and trust, and patient pride, 
At morn — at noon — or eventide, 

She calmed the cloudy hour; 
Her heart was full of love and song, 
She cheered Chocorua's life along. 

She brought him many a flower. 



Such was the life Chocorua sought, 
Such were .the charms Keoka brought, 
160 



HEE CASKET AND TOMB. 

Unselfish, unpretending ; 
Kings of the earth, I'd envy not, 
Give me to know Chocorua's lot, 

Such faith, such favor blending! 

X. 

Soon then, alas ! sad, fatal years, 
That moved heroic hearts to tears, 

Fell heavy on Pequawket; 
Dread death, that brought Keoka blind, 
Had mazed Chocorua in his mind. 

The tribes began to talk it. 

XI. 

Of rushes rude they made her shroud, 
In crooked form a casket proud. 

And laid her in the wild-wood, 
Beside a rippling river shore. 
Where many a song and dance of yore, 

Had cheered her happy childhood. 
161 



THE BRIDE OF BURTON. 

xn. 

Six logs laid high on either side, 
Embraced they hold that sainted bride, 

With a rail-made roof around her; 
Deep, calm at rest, devoid of fears. 
Of loves — of hopes — or tender tears, 

Where first Chocorua found her. 

xin. 

A white flag fluttered in the air, 
"Sweet stars from heaven glittered there. 

And the zephyrs came to love her; 
Deep wood -lands whispered sighs unknown, 
The plaintive pines their loss bemoan, 

And the wild rose creeps above her. 



Ten times a day Chocorua wept; 
Ten times a day his shadow swept 
162 



:.d:h 




Ten times adav Cliocorua ivept; 
Ten liines a dayliis sliaclo?: svrep-! 
Ill "liimT form. ,•'.: 



CHOCOEUA AT HER GRAVE. 

In plumy form aromicl her ; 
The partridge fluttered from his trail, 
And the she-wolf nightly heard his wail, 

To a troubled trance it bound her. 

XV. 

Where'er he turned, where'er he roamed, 
Or when around the grave he mourned, 

There, prompt and true to mind him, 
His little lad with lifted eye. 
As if to hail that mother nigh, 

Tripped on, and stood behind him. 

XVI. 

'Twas thus Chocorua's heart was pressed, 
Long months moved on, but gave no rest, 

Sad thus, dread fate had made it! 
Still there is grief as yet unknown, 
"One trouble never comes alone," 

Our dear old mothers said it. 
163 



THE BRIDE OF BURTON. 



Next, then incleed, how true it proved I 
Another fate as fortune moved 

Came cruel quite as t'other; 
By hidden drugs, in malice made, 
Alas ! that darling boy is dead, 

To moulder with his mother. 

xvin. 
Then wailed Chocorua wilder still, 
Without a heart, without a will, 

A ghost-like, lurking wonder; 
Yet in his flesh there's native fire, 
Though earth and hell in crime conspire 

To drive that soul asunder. 

XIX. 

As now the story oft is told, 
Chocorua cursed the English old, 
For deeds unholy, certain; 
164 



CHOCORUA IS SLArN". 



And ever since, from then to this, 
'Not a breath of hoj^e, nor breeze of blias, 
Hath moved the woods of Burton. 



Dark shadows came to chase the sun, 
The Indian hunter's day was done, 

And the wood-lands wild were sighing ; 
'Twas then a shaft his heart had broken, 
Vengeance! the eternal fates betoken; 

Chocorua is dying. 

XXI. 

On that dread night and hitherto. 
The heavens let fall malarious dew. 

Far down these murky mountains ; 
Not a flower in all the waste is known, 
The maple leaf is dry, half-grown. 

And death is in the fountains. 
165 



THE BEIDE OF BURTON. 

xxn. 
The moping owl hath ceased to hoot, 
The scrub oak falters ^ the root, 

And the snail is lank and weary; 
The fated fawn hath found his bed, 
Huge hawks, high flying, drop down dead 

Above that apex dreary. 

xxin. 
Faded, the vales no fruits adorn. 
The hills are pale with poisoned corn. 

The flocks are lean, repining ; 
No growth the panting pastures yield. 
And the staggering cattle roam the field. 

Forlorn, in death declining. 

XXIV. 

'Tis thus we're made the slaves of earth. 
Mope in miasmas, deep in dearth, 
Sad, from some bad beginning; 
166 



THEY COME IN THE CLOUDS. 

From cruelty to friend or foes, 
Our morbid poins and mental woes, 
Prove but the pangs of sinning. 



High now a voice is in the air, 
As if Chocorua still were there, 

With wood-nymphs wild attending; 
'Tis heard far up the mountain side, 
That plaint of Earth's down-trodden tribe, 

Bleak, with the zephyrs blending. 

XXVI. 

O, God, forgive our Saxon race ! 
Blot from thy book, no more to trace. 

Fraternal wrath infernal; 
That taints the atmosphere we breathe, 
The sky above, and earth beneath. 

With dearth and death eternal! 
167 



THE BRIDE OF BURTON. 

xxvn. 

Come, boys, we'll take our tents away 
To better vales: — 'tis break of day, 

And the hounds are awake for duty; 
Blow, blow the horn, a gracious sun 
Hath brought a brotherhood^ begun, 

In life, in love and beauty. 
168 





THE PET CANARY. 




?ONG little Lilla^^ fed the bird, 
J Her lovely pet canary, 
^ -V^ ^nd many a song and tender word 
Inspired the busy dairy; 



And daily oft, to see the pet, 

The school-mate wanders hither, 

To learn how hearts congenial met. 
Have "lived and loved together. 
169 



THE PET CANARY. 
3 

For whom sweet June had spread her flowers, 
Had furnished fruitful treasures ; 

And wanton wild -birds from their bowers, 
Brought lovely magic measures. 

4 

Ah ! what a change a day hath done ! 

There's trouble on the morrow. 
Our Lilla dies — her pet is dumb; 

That home is full of sorrow. 

5 

Then when the funeral prayer is made, 

In sainted sanctuary, 
Down from a cage upon the dead, 

Mute gazed that little canary — 

6 

Till when at length the choir begun 
Soft notes of sorrow even; 
170 



LILLA IN HEAVEN. 



That little heart, it swelled and sung 
A song of Hope and Heaven. 



And then alone, he sung a part, 
A plaintive voluntary ; 

Ah! — how it fell upon my heart, 
That dirge from little canary! 



We could but see sweet Lilla nigh, 
In robes of light to love us, 

And for her pet to breathe a sigh. 
From heaven high above us. 

171 




A MEMENTO. 



In the Album of Mrs. J. E. B., since deceased. 




^h^cIND Lady: 

W 

What though the gift be meagre quite, 

Here in thy book I'll bear a j^art; 
Fail as we may in what we write, 
Accept a neighbor's friendly mite, 

A truthful tribute of the heart. 

At noon or night, at morn or evening. 

Whene'er ye read this fading line, — 
For aye the same, whate'er the seeming, 
Fond memory, from mine altar beaming. 
Shall faithfid turn to thee and thine. 
172 




ONWARD TO THE SEA.' 




[i^T dawn while damp the dews are falling 
^ On men of might, deep sleep enthralling, 
'"^^^'The bugle -note vast cohorts calling. 
Is breaking o'er the lea; 
'Tis now from vale and mountain wall, 
Our gallant horse and footmen, all. 
Are on the march at Sherman's call, 
Far downward for the sea. 



I hear the train, — I hear the tread, 
Of brave battalions onward led 
173 



ONWARD TO THE SEA. 

[Yet not unmindful of the dead, 

So sadly doomed to be,] 
O'er hill and dale, through vill and town, 
Moving in mighty columns down, 
They chant the praise of " old John Brown," 

Far downward for the sea. 

3 

In spite of saint or southern sages. 
That took from toil her honest wages. 
And blotted freedom from our pages, 

Went forth the dread decree; 
And the mortars roar the roads along. 
In skirmish and in battle strong; 
'Twas Sherman bold avenging wrong. 

Far downward to the sea! 

4 

Out from Shenandoah's crimson cloud, 

From thunders breaking long and loud, 

174 



SHERMAN ON THE SEA -SHORE. 

Our brave old Flag waves wild and proud, 

Brings signal ecstacy; 
For the trump of war hath ceased to roar, 
Rebellion lingering, lives no more, 
And Sherman's hosts stand on the shore, 

Of a beauteous, balmy sea. 

175 




AN ACROSTIC. 



Exert thyself; on self alone depend; 
Let reason guide thee to a hopeful end ; 
Let Truth divine, and Love and Charity, 
In fervent faith thy measured motto be ; 
Excuse no wrong, in Heaven's pure light be free. 
176 







ON DIXIE'S WOOD -LAND. 



SEDGWICK.'*^ 



I^J^Kn Dixie's wood -land hill and plain, 

Where treason stalks in ghost-like form, 
The deadly mortars belch again. 

Earth, troubled, quakes beneath the storm. 




Down on the foe to battle led. 

Brave gallant legions fired of hope, 

Out through the heaps of mangled dead, 

They bear a nation's banner up. 

177 



Firm yet again, though comrades fall, 
And undismayed at Fate's decree. 

Onward they heed their country's call. 

Their noble hearts shall make her free. 



Lo ! there, amidst the valiant slain, 
Is he who bore that banner high 

O'er many a gory battle plain, 

Where "Greek met Greek" — met there to die. 

•Clouds clad in crimson intervene. 

Our dear old flag is bending low 

Where Sedgwick fell — the willow green 
Trails — weeping o'er him on the Po, 

Ah! 'tis of earth, man can but know 
How truth eternal, right divine, 

Must from the blood of martyrs flow, 
'Tis wond'rous wisdom's vast design! 
178 



SEDGWICK, A nation's CARE. 

Yet far from fields of valor blest, 

Though Freedom's flag may rend in twain, 
Though race and nation be opj)ressed. 

Shall not the hero live again? 

Brave, noble spirit! — higher hence, 
A leader in that land of light; 

What though no traveller comes from thence, 
We'll hail thee there in armor bright. 



Go, ye that linger where he fell. 

With guards of honor, bear him thence, 
Yet pageant praise shall fail to tell 

The general care, the gloom intense. 

In vain the solemn organ trills, 

While true to trust ye homeward come. 
In vain the echo from the hills 

Of plaintive airs and muffled drmn. 
179 



ON dixie's wood -land. 

And vain, indeed, the soldier's shot, 

Or thunders breaking o'er the tomb; 

A nation weeping heeds it not. 

She hath an impulse of her own. 

IV. 

Rest! let him rest in the high land fair, 
Where golden sunsets glow and gleam, 

Where wild birds warbling fill the air. 

And the pine-tree whispers love serene. 

Oft here the patriot's heart shall burn 
In mournful lays, in generous tears. 

And pilgrim feet shall hither turn. 

As come and go the rolling years. 

Bring lilies sweet, in hands -full bring 
The rose in beauty, full in bloom; 

Bring garland flowers of grateful spring. 
And crown for aye the hero's tomb. 
180 




CHEERFULNESS. 



Washington, Feb. 13, 1864. 
A Postscript to a Lettek, foe a Little Miss. 




Is far away, 

And night again advances; 
That law divine, 
The march of time, 

Is never changed by chances. 
181 



CHEERFULNESS. 
2 

But little we know 

How fast we go, 
Or what the aim or ending 

Of the motley throng, 

That plod along, 
In word and deed offending. 



Yet there's good cheer, 

My Mary dear, 
A charm in the life of childhood j 

I bless the toys 

That give thee joys. 
Long lost to me in manhood. 



Let reason guide — 
No ills betide 
182 



ITS INSPIRATIONS. 

Gay juvenile devotions; 

Sacl, dull and drear, 

Would life appear, 
But for our childish notions. 

5 

A cheerful mind, 

With truth combined, 
And faith, without misgiving, 

Shall fill the page 

Of riper age. 
In useful life worth living. 

6 

From thence shall showers 

Bedeck with flowers. 
Thy path with fragrant beauty; 

And healtli shall glow. 

And comforts flow 
From cheerfulness in duty. 
183 



CHEEKFULNESS. 
7 

O, then we'll dare 

To banish care, 
Nor faith nor truth shall vary; 

And heaven at last, 

For all the past, 
Shall bless my little Mary. 

184 





UP THE KENNEBEC, 



From Little Maky— A Soliloquy. 



KWpURORA beauteous, breaking bright, 
= Adorns the moving deck; 
From the heavens afar, with golden light, 

She paints the Kennebec. 
Sweet birds of song, the shores along, 

Their carols true are calling; 
And the duck and dove are full of love, 
Infinity extolling. 
185 



UP THE KENNEBEC. 



Made glad at morn, the hunter's horn, 

Wild, mellow windings take ; 
And the hopeful hound is on his round, 

Far up the Kennebec. 
I seek the field, where lilies yield 

Their fragrance and their beauty; 
Where the rustic swain, for honest gain, 

Is true to daily duty. 



Farewell, old Ocean ! pale yet proud 

Thy billows foam and break; 
Rolling on high, and roaring loud, 

Ye greet the Kennebec! 
Thine are the depths of spacious dales, 

Of highlands lowly buried. 
The fallen leaf of autumn gales, 

Or waves from winter hurried. 
186 



FEOM OLD OCEAN. 



Thy fountains deep are bright divine, 

Thy hearings have no check; 
Thy tides eternal, keeping time, 

Far up the Kennebec. 
Merry and sweet, the rills ye meet, 

From misty mountains falling, 
They glide and gambol at thy feet; 

They follow at thy calling. 



Farewell! we've launched our gondola, 

Fair founts above to fleck, 
With cheer and chat and song away 

On the lovely Kennebec. 
Up there is Sprague ; he leads the way. 

To many a towering block ; 
And Art is bending to obey 

Her ancient Sagadahock. 
187 



UP THE KJENNEBEC. 



Huge ships to spare, in crafty care, 

Bold verdant banks bedeck; 
For the ocean fair to wander there, 

From the busy Kennebec; 
To seek the ports of spacious Earth, 

Her traffic and her treasures ; 
To share her gems of wealth and worth, 

Her products and her pleasures. 



Bright is the scope of love and hope. 

Creation deigns to deck! 
They fill our cup as we go up, 

The balmy Kennebec. 
There's beauty in the mountain range, 

In meadow and in mansion 
In many a freak unfolded strange. 

Deep in the vast expansion! 
188 



OUR DEAR OLD MOTHER. 
8 

Dame Nature casts her garlands down 

All round us on the deck ; 
While on the hills she stands to crown 

Her kindly Kennebec ; 
Yet she hath care for countless throngs, 

In earth, in air, and ocean ; 
And to her constancy belongs 

The faith of deep devotion. 



Sweet, dear old Mother! true to tell, 

[We hail thy luring beck!] 
Our ancient Fathers knew thee well, 

Along the Kennebec. 
They had a heart to love thee then. 

Thy fragrant, shady bowers; 
That beat as true to God and men, 

As finn in faith as ours. 
189 



IIP THE KENNEBEC. 



10 



Translated they! thou art the same 

Without a spot or speck 
To mar thy face, thy faith, or fame, 

Far up the Kennebec ! 
"We Thee adore," and love thy lore. 

Thy bounty and thy beauty ; 
As did the Red -man years of yore, 

Here on a hunter's duty; 

11 

When naked at Thine altar, true, 

He bent his beardless neck, 
And proudly launched his birch canoe 

High up the Kennebec; 
Where, in the wild -wood 'neath a cloud, 

Or down sweet sunny waters. 
He held dominion, sj^acious, proud, 

O'er Xntui-e's sons and daughters. 
190 



THE TKIBES OF YORE. 



12 



Sad, now to tell, how the Chieftain fell, 

And the boat became a wreck! 
How the tribes, of yore, were dashed ashore 

On the troubled Kennebec ! 
Bright stars shall burn, and seasons turn 

Their sunny sides forever ; 
But ne'er to change, yon mountain range, 

Again shall know them, never! 

13 

No sqiAiw her tranquil love -song trills, 

Life's languid cares to check; 
No Indian war-whoop haunts the hills 

That shade the Kennebec ; 
Yet doth she sing unseen of Earth 
In native numbers yonder — 
"The world that gave the Red -man birth 
Can never know him longer. 
191 



UP THE KENNEBEC. 



14 



" Mine was the tribe by the mountain side, 

To nature true, I reck, 
That wandered wide the wood -land tide, 

High on the Kennebec. 
I try to trace them in the sand, 

My father and my mother; 
Vain, vain, I seek that little band, 

My sister and my brother! 

15 

"Dear! dear to me! — each field or flood, 
Or sight, or sound, or speck, 
Where roamed the sons of Robinhood 

On the kindly Kennebec! 
Forgive, oh God! — (we've felt the rod). 

Each seeming, sad complaining! 
Yet there's no place, to the Red -man's race, 
On the shores of Earth remaining!" 
192 



HOME OF THE WHITE -MAN. 
16 

The Eternal chime, that song sublime, 

Its latent lessons break, 
Out from the crimson clouds of time, 

That touch the Kennebec — 
True, soft and mild, in the forest wild, 

And down the rolling river; 
High on the hills, deep in the rills. 

It lives to languish, never! 



Yet Mother Dame hath other sons, 

And daughters too to deck; 
We've seen them oft at Uncle John's, 

Far up the Kennebec/^ 
His wigwam brave is wide and warm, 

His woodlands cool and shady ; 
Bright fields of grain and golden corn. 

Abundant for the needy. 
193 



UP THE KENNEBEC. 

18 

Wide waving groves, green pastures too, 

And lofty rills we reck; 
While onward puffs our proud canoe, 

Far up the Kennebec. 

Lo, this is life! — with kindness rife! 

Though the day be dark and dreary; 
One purpose true, and God in view, 

We never need be weary ! 

19 

From the wily snare, to guide us there, 

He pilots every step ; 
And swells the sail with a grateful gale, 

Far up the Kennebec. 
Bless me, ye Powers! — this world of ours, 

In peaky, proudest beauty, 
But points to Thee, inspiring me 

To diligence in duty. 
194 



And though the storm and the hail may come, 

And the surge may dash the deck; 
Enough it is, that we are His, 

Far up the Kennebec ! 
True, true they say, there's a better day, 

And faith^ we ought to find it! 
For the lights of love that burn above, 

Are lit for man to mind it. 

195 




BARNARD BROWN 



Washington, D. C, May 14, 1862. 
Feom the Copy of a Letter of that Date. 



The ceiling in the great Library at tlie Capitol is some forty feet up, extend- 
ing to the roof of the building. To-day we were in there, and as it happened, 
a workman who was upon the roof, jumped off from a higher to a lower part of 
it; at which an entire panel of the roofing gave way — and in its fall brought the 
man with it, all in a mass down upon the floor before us, the man expuing 
instantly. An event, thus unforeseen and unexpected, was a startling 

ADMONITION. 

^, -LAS ! what frightful spectre deigns 
^1 To chill my life-blood in the veins! 
-^W'^ What sudden freak or panic dash 

Brings headlong downward with a crash, 
Like thunder -bolt from awful storm, 
To mother Earth, thy lifeless form, 
Poor Barnard Brown! 
190 




I SEE THEE IN VISIONS. 

Away at dawn, from hearth and home, 
To try and trust an iron dome, 
Thy feet secure from all mishap, 
Approached, alas, that fatal trap 
To earthly hope 1 — it palsies me! 
And wife and children weep for thee, 
Poor Barnard Brown! 

Beyond this earth thy lot is cast, 
Unknown, unknowing, while time shall last ; 
Yet shuddering oft, I'll see again 
Thy quivering form and feel the pain; 
In visions of thy spirit flown, 
And dreams of night, I'll thee bemoan, 
Poor Barnard Brown ! 

Great Power above! it is but Thee, 
Rebuking man's security; 
197 



BAKNAED BROWN". 

Like the wayless wanderer, taught to fear, 
Beneath each foot-stej), danger near, 
We learn of Thee; — but oft too late, 
And share in grief the hapless fate 
Of Barnard Brown. 

198 





THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 



AN IMPROMPTU, 




^E Gods hymenial known in song, 

me down and bring y'r rhymes along 
^W^ To feed a frail, benighted throng, 
Witli matrimonial measm-es ; 
And let your sentimental lore 
Inflate the faltering wing to soar, 
O, teach us as ye taught of yore 
From life's abundant treasures! 
199 



THE GOLDEX WEDDING. 

Tell US of what we ought to sing, 
To what in faith we ought to cling; 
What harp and voice we ought to bring, 

While upward, onward spedding! 
Let us look back the journey through, 
Of generations take a view, 
And seek expedients old and new, 

To celebrate a wedding^^ 



'Tis but to turn a better Jeaf, 
To banish hateful, sordid grief, 
And cherish life in full belief 

Of progress and expansion; 
Each hour to labor, yet to love. 
As if 'twere given from above. 
As if the soul were like a dove 



To make on high a mansion. 



200 



SWEET DAYS OF YORE. 

'Tis not true life to foster self, 
Nor treasure ignominious wealth, 
Nor lay your notions on the shelf. 

Or hide them in a napkin ; 
Nor is it wise to strut in pride. 
Or frown at folly, or deride 
At sins that come from 'tother side. 

While o'er your own you're napping. 



'Twill better be, if now and then. 
To guide the foot -step or the pen, 
Ye take the retrospective when 

Y'r Fathers here were living; 
"When ladies never loved their ease, 
When mother made her butter and cheese; 
When children crept beneath her knees 

At Christmas or Thanksgiving; 
201 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

When then ye never heard of balls, 
Nor dire divorce — nor family squalls, 
Nor Grecian -bend — nor water -falls, 

Nor gossip, — nor division. 
'Twas then, our sister Mary spun, 
'Twas then, how blithe the spindle run. 
And ah! — how sweet the song she sung. 

To childhood's happy vision ! 

Strong, then the fathers held the plows, 
And maids and mothers milked the cows. 
And lovers always paid their vows 

At eve and early morning; 
While Rachel weaved her limber rushes. 
Kind Katie swept the house with brushes, 
And Nathan brought bright, verdant bushes 

The fireplace old adorning. 

Soft, then the zephyrs moved the trees. 
Sweet nectar came from busy bees, 
202 



KIND VOICES. 

Bright, better days no mortal sees, 

To cheer the hearts of men ; 
True love and song, sweet life enriching, 
With voices kind, in field and kitchen, 
O God! — how rich and how bewitching, 
To giddy boyhood then ! 

4 

We've now a story, brief to tell, 
Of wedded life — we know it well. 
Historic of our honored Belle, 

From a happy day she came ; 
Out from a group of sisters fine. 
Lucretia^ An7i, and Catherine, 
Elizabeth, and Caroline, 

Of faithful race and fame ; 

All at a time on memory's page, 
When children paid respect to age, 
When the man w\as always saint or sage, 
203 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 

And women made the matches ; 
Vain wealth, a beau could never catch, 
'Twas love alone that lit the match, 
Then Hudson changed her name to Hatch,- 

A train of little Hatches. 

Since then how blithe the days have been ! 

What golden treasures gathered in ; 
What loves, what hopes have dwelt within ! 

What faith to banish fears! 
How many thanks and sweet good wishes, 
How many gems and gracious dishes, 
How many heartfelt, kindly kisses 

Have crowned these happy years! 

5 

Up hither have we come to-night, 
In prompt surprisings to delight. 
Here each in turn to cast our mite 
Down at the bridal altar; 
204 



WE GREET THEE. 

We greet you with the best of tin, 
A ladle and a bosom -pin, 
Full many a trinket brought you in, 
With never a heart to falter. 

We've brought you knives and napkin rings, 
Fine fancy fons, from glittering wings, 
And many mighty handy things 

To wom-en quite bewitching; 
A wedding ring, from Aunt Kesiah ; 
A fancy mug from httle Mariah, 
And a fish-fork strong from brave Josiah 

To adorn the bridal kitchen; 

And here sweet Katie brings you baskets, 
Here's Huldah, too, with nice elastics. 
And Uncle Josh has filled his flaskets. 

Each promptly as you've seen ; 
Beaus, many are here, and aged rulers, 
And maidens meek and "spinning mulers," 
205 



THE GOLDEN WEDDING. 



With plate and spoon, and "butter coolers," 
All hail! the bridal Queen! 



God bless the bridegroom! bless the bride! 
Each Hatch and Hudson far and wide, 
And let no hapless ill betide 

These holy, happy years! 
And when the summons comes, to go, 
From golden weddings here below. 
We'll meet again, and better know 

The folly of our fears. 
206 





AN ELEGY. 



[JEWETT. 



UpjlOWN where sweet waters gently glide, 
(^^P And the earth inspires her tender blade; 



Where beckoning wood -lands, opening wide, 
Receive the advancing, sainted dead, 



I rove at morn ;'^" — Phoebus, afar. 

Hath driven the pale moon from the sea. 

And dazzling out each fading star. 

Brings light and love to all, but me. 
207 



AN ELEGY. 

Still yet in faith, I've come to cast 

Fair flowerets down, — low bending do it; 

For here in death is laid at last, 

My neighbor kind — my generous Jewett. 

Friend of my youth! How cruel cold, 
The blight that holds a heart divine! 

Yet life would quit her cares untold 
To share immortal treasures, thine. 

Brisk, blow ye bleak winds, bring a song. 
Celestial vespers sweet and clear ; 

Wave wide, ye bending woods along. 
In love to lay sweet garlands here ! 

And you, ye wild -birds, often sad. 
In little songs, if not in tears; 

Forget ye not my honored dead, 

As wane away the eternal years! 

208 



BRING LILIES. 

Let lilies, fragrant, fill the ground, 

Lovely for aye shall live the sod; 

For here, indeed, a friend is found, 

" A man the noblest work of God ! " 
209 





^m^ 



THAT OLD FLAG YET." 



[An address at a flag raising, in October, 1868, having reference 
to the Presidential Election.] 



^yR^ES! let it wave on every hill 
^^^^In every land, triumphant still, 
In freedom fair as ever! 
And "let the conquering hero come," 
A Nation's glory he hath won. 
Yes! — let it wave forever! 

It floated long — the foe defied, — 

Proud o'er our brave ones when they died, 

Its destiny completing; 

On wide old Ocean's dread domain. 

Or down on Richmond's bloody plain. 

In victory or retreating. 
211 



THAT OLD FLAG YET. 
2 

On that sad field, beneath a tree 
A soldier falls; — fighting for Lee, 

A shaft his heart had met; 
Yet while our troops retreating flee, 
He hails them — shouting, (faintly free,) 

"Hurrah!— for that old flag yet!" 

He'd lived beneath a southern sun, 

Had been conscribed when the war begun, 

But against the wrong had set ; 
Still leaning on a rebel gun, 
High now that dying voice, it run, 

"Hurrah! — for that old flag yet"— 

3 

All day — all night — our cohorts fly. 
While oft they turn a tearful eye. 

Back where that soldier sat ; 
Although they'd known him there to die, 
212 



A VOICE IN THE SKY. 

At every step they heard the cry, 

"Hurrah!— for that old flag yet." 

The din of danger far and nigh, 
A sultry sun; — that crimson sky 

At night, they heeded not; 
Above that clamorous battle cry, 
They knew that voice- ('twas from on high;) 

They waved— "that old flag yet." 

And when next day at dawn of light. 
Our squadrons wheeling, left and right, 

The foe aback beset; 
They rallied nobly, full of fight, 
And headlong drove him out of sight; — 
Hurrah! — 'twas "that old flag yet." 



That voice will never wane away, 
'Tis in the air, the cloud, the clay, 
213 



THAT OLD FLAG YET. 

Deep in the soul, 'tis set; 
In every form, in every way, 
They'll hear it till their dying day, 

"Hurrah! — for that old flag yet!" 

Yes! — let it wave on every hill 
In every land, triumphant still, 

In freedom fair as ever; 
And "let the conquering hero come," 
A Nation's glory he hath won. 

Yes, let it float forever! *^ 
214 



AGAIN 'TIS NIGHT. 



D. C, ]VIAY 4, 1863. 
Weitten to Little C. at Eve after the Battle of Chancellorsville. 




I^^GAIN 'tis night; — yet the moon, afar, 
Brings radiant light to the tents of war; 

While the tramp of steed, and tap of drum. 
Have waned away at Washington. 



Yet many a soldier, brave and bright, 
Are sad within their tents to night; 
For the battle hath raged, and comrades, true, 
Are pale beneath yon hills of blue. 
215 



AGAIN TIS NIGHT. 

WiJcl now in dreams, the country maid 
Awakes to memories of her dead; 
And hearts afor in grief must yield, 
To the cry of a crimson battle-field. 



From death and cloud, from sad dismay, 
In thought of home, I'll turn away. 
Where over her book stands Caddie plodding, 
With weary mother near-by nodding, 

My little Maggie, gone to rest. 
With angels, happy to be blest, 
Where Nature drinks her sweet supplies. 
For the waste of age, and weary lives. 

Forgetful night is brief; and when, 
A balmy day shall dawn again. 
Each cheerful task, — each deed of duty, 
Shall cherish Nature in her beauty; 
216 



THE LITTLE HEARTS AT HOME. 

Prompt then my Phebe, faithful found, 
To out -do Peggie — trudging 'round; 
The needful do — composure keep, 
The parlor brush — the kitchen sweep ; 

And next for chick, and pig and duckie, 
Prepare a dish — a lunch for puppy; 
All neat, complete ; — then comes the way, 
To get permit to go and play, 

With friendly favorites ; — Ben and Bub, 
With Emma, Jane, or Bertha Rugg ; 
With Georgie, Mai-ion, or Farie, 
Good Alice Brown, or sister Mary; 

Blithe, there to spend in social chat, 
In sport of childhood, this or that. 
An hour of time, (if you obtain it,) 
'Tis always worth the work to gain it. 
217 



AGAIN 'tis night. 

Still bear in mind, the axiom ever, 
"A moment lost is lost forever." 
Prompt, prudent there — stay not too long, 
Your work and book and little song. 

You'll try again, on due return, 
And many a useful lesson learn ; 
Excuse Papa — he'll blow the light, 
And dream of thee all through the night. 



O, — happy childhood, once my own, 
Sweet, dear delights, forever flown! 
Forgetting ne'er that halcyon home, 
I'll seek it in a world unknown I 
218 




BURNSIDE AT ROANOKE. 



Febkuaby 7, 1862. 




|NOTHER fleet 
HkIs armed complete, 

And manned for southern waters; 

To "crack a joke" 

On Roanoke, 
And conquer tlie marauders. 
219 



BUENSIDE AT KOANOKE. 
2 

Three columns strong, 

Full two miles long, 
Move on with power majestic ; 

No naval host 

E'er ploughed the coast 
More gallant, more terrific. 

3 

Waved far and wide, 

High on the tide. 
With mighty mail and mortars; 

They storm the sound, 

And the heavens resound 
Along the inland borders. 

4 

Fast on the foe. 
The weapons of woe 
They hui-1 'mid blazing thunder 
220 



ON SEA AND LAND. 

And screaming squibs; 
They break the ribs 
Of war -ships driven asunder; 



And crippled the craft, 

Before and aft, 
Submerging in the distance 

To hades goes; 

Such heavy blows 
Have baffled all resistance. 



Then to the shore; 

A ceaseless roar, 
Strange slaughter there foreboding, 

Sweeps o'er the land, 

Along the strand 
With musketry exploding. 
221 



BUKNSIDE AT ROANOKE. 
7 

Down there a Wise 

Dishonored dies, 
And men of might are falling; 

On every hand, 

On sea and land. 
The belching fires are galling. 

8 

Out from their forts, 

And hidden works, 
Brave Burnside shortly shows 'em 

The way to h'll 

By shot and shell, 
As down the devil stows 'em. 

9 

Some fly in squads. 

Some seek the Gods, 

In prayer for safe protection, 



VICTORIOUS. 

Some start for home; 
Some skulk alone, 
In dread of dire dissection. 

10 

Three thousand rebs, 

With feeble legs, 
(Their consciences grow tender,) 

For "quarters" cry. 

And signify 
Their pleasure to surrender. 

11 

Then, in the sky, 

Our banners high 
Ascend, — triumphant shouting ! 

Firm on the wall. 

Where traitors fall. 
The dear old Flag is floating. 
223 



OUR DAY OF INDEPENDENCE. 



WA.SHIKGTON, D. C, 1861. 

The beal and avowed cause op the Rebellion". 

CHEONOLOGICAIi. 



^fpHE fourth of July, 

ii 

Advancing is nigh, 



It brings not its wonted elation ; 

What a contrast in years, 

A nation in tears 
O'erwhelmed — 'tis a sad celebration I 
224 



ITS JOYS ONCE. 

Of yore, it was honored 

Of hearts high onward, 
United in national glory, 

The old rusty gun, 

Tlie fife and the drum, 
And ringing of bells told the story, 

How victories were won. 

And England out -done, 
In the war of the great Revolution ; 

How tyrants and knaves 

Were sent to their graves. 
For opposing a free constitution ! 

Prompt then at command, 

Throughout all the land, 
Grand fire -works and crackers were snapping; 

And crowds in the Town, 

From afar swarmed down. 
All hither and thither were tramping; 
225 



OUR DAY OF INDEPENDENCE. 

With music and noise, 

Both old men and boys, 
And matrons and maidens elated, 

All welcomed the day's 

Fantastic displays. 
As the tri- colored banner they greeted. 



But vainly, alas! 

While onward we pass, 
The day is beclouded in sadness; 

For slavery's chain. 

Hath addled the brain, 
And driven the master to madness. 

To act the fool's part, 
Unholy at heart; 
With all of the rights they needed, 
The Union to smash, 
226 



ITS SORROWS NOW. 

They stole all our cash, 
And piously then, they seceded! 

3 

They'd tried long in vain 

The Senate to gain. 
In search of a slave -state majority; 

Intent on the Avhole, 

The North to control 
By force of a meagre minority. 

To a desperate end 

Their invasions extend, 
The compromise measures unheeded, 

To gain by knavery, 

Still more States for slavery,^^ 
But two to be added they needed. 

Tenacious as yet 
In Kansas they met, 
227 



OUR DAY OF INDEPENDENCE. 

Brave patriots in Freedom's devotion, 

Disdaining to yield 

That broad battlefield 
To treason's tyrannical notion. 

Bold aggressions, assailed, 

The invaders foiled; 
But took to another intention, 

Polluted in schemes, 

Their damnable dreams 
Were turned to a traitor's convention. 



Three reasons they had; 

The tariff was bad. 
By majorities they had been cheated; 

Their crafty invention 

Of slave -state extension 
Had the dare-devil yankees defeated.^^ 
228 



SLAVERY SEEKS POWER. 



There stood in the way 

On tliat trial day 
Old Buck, as they called him, (Buchanan),^* 

A troublesome tool 

As taught in that school 
Of confederates, a constant companion. 

Against such a crime 

He dared not decline 
A yielding assent to the faction ; 

A leader, he stood 

Most liberal in blood, 
Made to flow by fatal inaction. 

His day soon expired, 
As many desired, 
And Abram to power ascended, 
Down a by-way track, 
229 



OUR DAT OF IXDEPENDENOB. 

In a midnight hack, 
From fear of a mob -force offended." 

6 

The South then in arms 

Created alarms ; 
No navy commanded the ocean;* 

An army but small, 

Mere nothing at all, 
To abate the impending conHnotion. 

Fort Sumter they stormed, 
For combat they armed, 

The traitors in treason for battle, 
To rule at command 
The whole yankee land, 

As they governed an African chattel. 

7 

The North now awake, 
Resistance to make ; 
230 



THE ONSET. 

Brave cohorts, to count by the million, 

Prepared for the field, 

Sworn never to yield, 
Advance to crush the rebellion. 

Loud the battle doth roar 

As never before, 
Afar on the billows of ocean, 

And over the hills 

Loud thundering fills 
The heavens with dread commotion I 



Such, such is the strife, 

A trial for life ; 
The mothers afar are weeping! 

And angels above. 

Kind, constant in love. 
Their vigils in sorrow are keeping! 
231 



OUR DAY OF INDEPENDENCE. 

Yet, free from mistake, 

Proud History shall make 
A record of the true and the brave ; 

Of virtues to cherish, 

Of heroes that perish. 
The life of a nation to save. 

232 





VICTORY. 



Written for the Fourth of July, 1867, havmg reference to the statue, Victorj-, 
erected on that day at the tomb of the first martyrs of the great RebelUon. 



Thanks to the God of armies just! 

To him all adoration give, 
Who cast fell fetters down to dust, 

Forgave — to let a nation live! 



His hand upholds the stripe and star, 
Through tragic yet triumphant years 
233 



VICTORY. 

Wide wave that clear old flag afar, 

Beat up your sabre, dry your tears! 

Break forth in song, in anthems proud, 
The noisy drum and bugle bring; 

With cannon's roar, and trumpet loud, 
Let the vast hills and valleys ring; 

Sing — let the nations loud rejoice. 

For deeds heroic hearts have done ; 

And chant with high, harmonious voice 
Proclaiming praise for Freedom won! 

2 

Rear high yon statue,^^ proud and just; 

Make glad the consecrated green, 
Where doth the soldier's sainted dust, 

Bespeak the sorrow Earth hath seen ; 

Where Lowell's sons, at danger's post. 
First i:i the field and first to fall, 
234 




"^ 



, ';,;v pro n^pt-ings, true ctiviije 
■uiTG,resplerideTi-t "here, 

■ with hoTTiage at thy shrir 



ITS HEROES. 

Repose, — 'tis here a pilgrim host 

Shall come for aye — true patriots all. 

As well the way-worn maiden true, 

Her wreath in tender care shall bring; 

And infant Hearts shall come and strew 
Fair flowerets, sweetest of the spring. 

Ages, for aye, shall know and feel 

A sacrifice so nobly made; 
And the brave made braver, here shall kneel 

To the dust of these, their sainted dead. 

3 

'Neath darkness drear, the din of war, 
Hath waned away along the plain; 

Light glimmering down is seen afar. 
The Turtle Dove is heard ajrain. 

Victory — triumphant, ever dear! 

Thy form, thy promptings, true divine ! 
235 



VICTOEY. 

Revolving suns, resplendent here, 

Shall glow with homage at thy shrine. 

To thee, in turn, fresh garlands fair, 
Shall grateful generations give ! 

Eternal, ever treasured there. 

The hero in our hearts shall live ! 



Hail, hail the Day! — bright, now at hand! 

(As did our fathers cheer it, thus,) 
For Peace in fair Columbia's land, 

Hath come a harbinger to us; 

Her temples rise still higher now, 

Vast, spreading wide her borders are, 

Her streams in fuller fountains flow. 
Her highlands fair are greener far. 

Brute beasts abounding crowd the stall ; 
Gay lilies prouder, spread the lawn; 
236 



COLUMBIA AT PEACE. 

ft 

Blithe birds more prompt their carols call; 
The dew-drop sweeter on the thorn; 

The plowman jogs with livelier tread ; 

Meek merchants roam the ocean o'er ; 
Glad science lifts her clearer head, 

And Art more cunning than of yore. 

More merry chimes the bell at morn ; 

The sparkling anvil sharper trills ; 
More spiky springs the waving corn ; 

Her flocks more frisky on the hills. 

Stars twinkle brighter in the sky; 

The moon unclouded, sheds her light; 
That king of day, from heaven high, 

Looks down with kindlier visage bright. 

Thanks to the God of armies just! 
To Him all adoration give, 
237 



VICTOET. 

Who cast fell fetters down to dust, 
Forgave — to let a Nation live! 

His hand upholds the stripe and star, 

Through tragic, yet triumphant, years: 

Wide waves that dear old Flag, afar; 
Beat up your sabres, dry your tears! 

238 





THE TWO BROTHERS. 



A BEREAVEMENT. 



fiw^J.QP u ^less you little Eddie ! 
J Your father's only boy;" 







Farewell for aye, to Frankie, 
A darling earthly joy! 

His pilgrimage completed, 

And vain, — how vain to weep! 
The kindest favors meted, 

Afford afflictions deep. 
239 



THE TWO BROTHERS. 

Beyond a veil of sorrow, 

His little heart at rest, 
We'll miss him on the mori'ow. 

While yet among the blest. 

We'll strive in vain to greet him, 
In dreams of gloomy night; 

Yet waking we will meet him, 
In a world of love and light. 

Parent of all, forgive us! 

Some power of Thine employ; 
From the pains of earth reheve us; 

Save, save my lonely boy! 

240 




FESTIVITY. 



April 1, 1867.— Ak Advertisement. 




|OME, ring the bell — that old church bell, 
And hie thee to the festival 

In favor of St. Anne; 
Go ye, the Church and Laity, 
Both old and young in gayety, 
As at the call ve can ! 



This very night at "Huntington," 
The place of pleasantry and fun, 
241 



FESTIVITY. 

Ye '11 haste away anon; 
For true to friendship, fondly sweet, 
The Ladies there intend to treat ; 

Let all the beaux come on ! 

Then toll the bell, that old church bell, 
And hie thee to the festival, 

In honor of St. Anne ; 
Go ye, the Church and Laity, 
Both old and young in gayety, 

All — at the call ye can I 

242 




THE MARTYRS. 



An address to the Rev. Dr. Edson, Rector of St. Anne's Church, October 30, 
1867, on presenting to him an old History of the Martyrs, printed in London in 
1631, to be deposited and perpetuated in "The Rector's Public Library." 



|lIME, time never slumbers, nor fails to work 



wonders, 

"^W ' Qj^ ^\^Q heart of great numbers, unfolding their 
blunders, 

While onward he swings, too often he brings, 
High borne on his wings, the most terrible things! 

Still there is a charm, a sweet halo to life, 
A trust true in God, — for the trouble and strife; 

243 



THE MARTYKS. 

Forgive and forget, nor murmur again 

At the jars and the jeers of the children of men ! 

2 

Far back in the distance, mysterious, behold, 
The night -clouds are crimsoned, a story is told; 
For there did the fagot fierce fury unfold. 
And there stood the martyr, the martyr of old ! 

Yet see above all a bright banner unfurled, 
An ensign of beauty — it waves o'er the world! 

Like a bow in the cloud — at the right hand of God, 
'Tis the flao: of a kingjdom in letters of blood. 

Give heed to the omen ! portentous for good. 

Fear not for man's vengeance, the fire, or the flood, 

For through the wild tempest that curtains the sky, 
Glad tidings are tendered of joy from on high. 

3 

Proud pledge of the past! — its fulfillment appears, 
Down through the succession of unnumbered years ; 

244 



EARTH'S CONFLICTS. 

The Church, wide augmented, is upward and onward. 
The world hears her mandate, and moves by her 
standard ; 

In the wake of her wisdom, her wealth and her 

wonder, 
'Tis mixed in the nature of mortals to blunder; 

The God of our fathers too apt to offend. 
Making light of His favor — forgetting a Friend, 

What madness unholy! and why do they rage, 
"The heathen benighted" in wrong to engage? 

Or brother with brother to strive in commotion, 
Discarding the joys of fraternal devotion ? 

4 

True, true to the world, in the turmoil of strife, 
Man wars with a will in the battle of life ; 

Like the insect instinctive to work a wise end, 
Or the giant ungainly inclined to contend ; 

245 



THE MAKTYRS. 

In love or in hatred, in hope or desponding, 
Yet to the great God of creation responding. 

To Him who hath care for the ravens that cry, 
And to Him whom the faithful forever are nigh, 

All honor to give. — Though bewildered of earth, 
Beguiled of temptation, to death or to dearth. 

The soul of the contrite is anchored above him. 
In that Parent of all — deep in duty to love Him. 

5 

A grahi of true charity for man must we treasure. 
Whose scars for the right, of his worth are the measure ; 

A veil would we draw, o'er his labors and lodgings, 
And fain would abstain from his doubts and his dodgings. 

Life is but a lesson, a problem for all. 
The noble, ignoble, to stand or to fall; 

All nature in conflict, beginning at birth. 
Not less is the church in her trials on earth ; 

246 



THEIR RECORD. 

All move by one power, one instinct prevails, 

One hope and one purpose, though sometimes it fails; 

Her high -ways are numerous and winding at best, 
Yet do they all tend to one region of rest. 

They say there's a kingdom, that day shall disclose. 
Unlike the vain world, her weal and her woes. 

Up thither, oh, lead us in the pathway of light! 
Nor let us mistake the wrong for the right. 



Here, here is the Record recalling that day. 
When the spirit, triumphant, went upward away ; 

When the forms of the fliithful to ashes were laid. 
And progress for Zion by the martyr was made. 

Though time hath beclouded the page, as you see, 
The Record is sacred, — I bring it to thee, 

In the name of the worthies that witnessed that strife, 
01* the saint thus heroic, who gave up his life ; 

247 



THE MARTYRS. 

In the name of the Author, the Printer and Scribe, 
Tenacious and true to their God and tlieir tribe ; 

In the name of the Ship's -crew that came o'er the so: 
jrougl 
thee. 

Down from that old pilgrim, whose finger removed 
The dry -dust that darkened this leaf that he loved, 

I've come; — and I welcome the presence to-night, 
Of Fox and of Young, from that land of delight. 

Of Rogers and Hooper of regal renown. 

Ever proud like the angels, yet prone to look down, 

AHve to tlie tribute, (complacent above,) 
We pay to the shrine of truth and of love, 

Of zeal that withstands the fire and the flame; 
Of faitli that ne'er falters in God's holy name; 

Of hope like an anchor made steadfast away 
Beyond the death -damp of unholy dismay. 

248 



THEIB FAITH TKIUMPHANT. 

In sight of the angels make much of these pages; 
You'll hold them in trust for the far-coming ages ; 

Though fraught full of trial, of tumult and tears, 
They'll mind thee of Zion in her progress of years; 

Thy daughters shall read them, thy sons shall grow 

wise, 
The pilgrim shall seek them as light from the skies; 

Far down on the tide -way of time yet to come, 
Thy Rectors successive shall bear them along; 

And true like the star in the firmament shone, 

Shall the faith of the martyr to the nations be known. 



His faith is but thine, as it nobly hath stood. 
It hath reared thee a temple, a vestry for good; 

A church in her beauty, old worthy St. Anne, 
For aye shall she prosper, as blest be thy hand ; 

249 



THE MAKTYES. 

Ever grand in progression — her ensign unfurled, 
A fountain of wisdom, a light to the world ; 

Generations that rise, like the waves of the sea. 
As they gather and go, shall learn lessons of thee ; 

Full faith here abounding, true knowledge extending, 
Glad tidings of joy from thy labors descending. 

Long years are advancing, revolving, returning, 
Yet the fires at thine altar are brilliantly burning; 

Around thee we'll gather, in faith to be blest. 

By the light of thy day-star, still bright in the west; 

Embrace, my dear Rector, these volumes of old, 
Far^ bearing them onw^ard, their pages unfold ! ^ 

250 




A PRESCRIPT. 



March 29th, 1867. 
To R. B. C, Esq.: 

My Dear Sir: Herewith I beg leave to transmit to you one of my pm-ely 
vegetable remedies, which all travellers up Parnassus should keep by them for 
such attacks on the stomach as the climate induces. Should you and Constantia* 
take any morning walks up that moimtain together, may there be within hearing 

Your humble friend, 

J. C. A. 




THE REPLICATION. 

rflVE forever! ray dear Doctor! 

Thee and thine in days divine ; 
^-m^ To cure the world of all diseases, 
Burning thirst, or chill that freezes. 
As thou divested me of mine! 

*The name of certain wines found by the author in a box, contauilug also 

other presents. 

251 



THE REPLICATION. 

Thanks for favors fraught with pleasure, 
Wine and gems from foreign land, 

Thanks for a kindly keep -sake treasure, 

Benefactions without measure, 

Bounteous from a healing hand. 

No more to know disease disastrous, 

Health, ye '11 have it, — ne'er to falter; 

Haste ! haste ! to clamber up Parnassus ; 

Constantia, beauteous, blest of Bacchus, 
Shall pour libations at thine altar. 
Thine, 

E. B. C. 

March 29, 1867. 

252 




THE WAG IN A GRAVE-YARD, 




WAG one day, his cares to drown, 
Had taken too much cider; 
^V>\ He bent his way for a neighboring town, 
Yet wandered far and wider. 



The grave -yard gate had open blown, 
By the winds of winter creeping. 

And over a tomb he tumbled down, 
Yet found no place for sleeping. 
253 



THE WAG IN A GRAVE -YARD. 

He rolled amid the drowsy dead, 

As the night-watch would attest to, 

Then staggering high, he fell, but said, 
" J7/ rise whenever the rest do.''^ 



A fisherman while on his way, 

When morn came breaking proudly, 

Descried the carcass, where it lay, 
And blew his trumpet loudly. 

It raised our hero from the mire. 

Who thought, from where he lay. 

He'd heard the sound, and saw the fire. 
Of the fearful judgment day. 

He staggers forth, and rubs his eyes, 

(As the story is related) 
"Yes! faith^'' (says he) "I'm first to rise, 

Unless I'm much belated." 
254 



HEED NOT THE CUP. 



Poor Wanderer ! Let me turn to Scay ; 

Temptation — heed it never! 
Tm-n from the grave -yard — turn awayy 

It seeks the sot forever.^^ 
255 




A CARD. 



Friend C. — Can yoii furnish me a companion of exactly your dimensions 
for an hour's idleness and ride into the country? If you can, — come to my 
cart, — I wUl be at your service. 

Yours, in a hurry, 

J. C. A. 
June 8, 1870. 




THE ANSWER. 

AT EVE. 

URSE on 2/V letter^ it comes too late! 
^11 feel the fangs of bitter fate 
"-mr j^ devilish disapp'intment, — 

Driving the nerves ajar, unstrung 
As if indeed I'd just been hung! 
I crave y'r healing 'intraent. 



256 




THE LOST CHILDREN, 



A GHOST IN A CLOUD. 




lOWN to my door at night forlorn, 
^^ I met her bending low; 
^^ She'd waded through the sleet and storm^ 
Strang:e ! — what had made her so?^ 



Cold were her locks with driven snow, 

Her person curious clad, 
Her heart beguiled to the depths of woe, 

Gave vent to wailins^s mad. 



'Twas like the work of wicked war. 
Which earth itself enshrouded, 
257 



THE LOST CHILDREN. 



That from the wilderness afar, 
A soul had thus beclouded. 

True, true it proved, vague tidings came 
Of life and death successive; 

Dark days of doubt, upon the dame, 
But makes the grief impressive. 

Bending beneath earth's broken ties, 
By baneful wrongs to languish, 

She turns but to soliloquize, 
In wild, relenting anguish. 

2 

"Sad rumor comes from far away, 
A chill of death upon me, 

All night — all day — it brings dismay; 
Faint, fearful for my Johnny! 

"Has he no thought, nor mind, nor care, 
For infants left so sadly ; 
258 



A MOTHER MOURNS. 

While to my knee they gather there, 
To greet me often gladly? 

"Is life, O God! a gift of Thine, 
Yet Thine so soon to sever? 

And are these little babes of mine 
To be bereft forever, 

"Like me to weep? — no more to share 
A father's fond caressing; 

No more of love — no more that care. 
That kind, paternal blessing! 

"O, give me back my former year, 
Life's languid hour to gladden. 

That brought me ne'er a sigh, nor tear, 
Nor death, nor dearth to sadden! 

" Oft Tommy talks of Papa dear, 

Not knowing how it grieves me; 
259 



THE LOST CHILDREN. 

And little Johnny brings him near, 
At every time he sees me. 

"A neighbor true is more discreet, 
More hopeful of the morrow, 

Yet darling Katie, at my feet, 
Imparts a pang of sorrow. 

"My Johnny when he left me lone, 
He pressed these infants to him, 

And tried to cheer this heart, my own, 
In tenderest, wildest wooing. 

"The cold December gales had come. 
The drum was then tattooing, 

My last embrace indeed was done. 
Yet Katie ching unto him. 

"Let go," he whispered, — "Katie, dear," 
His eye a tear discloses ; 
260 



FATHERLESS. 



"The spring will soon again appear, 
Papa will bring you posies." 



3 



« Sweet spring hatli come and gone again, 
And winter comes to-morrow, 

To me the roses bloomed in vain, 

They brought me naught but sorrow. 

"O'erwhelmned of war! what will I do? 

It causes tearful tattle ; 
God of my life! oh, tell me true, 

Is Johnny lost in battle ? 

"Mine is he now, and hath he care, 
His promise kindly keeping. 

Or in the grave to slumber there. 
Unmindful of my weeping ? 

"I strive to hear a hopeful thing. 
Some solace seek around me, 
261 



THE LOST CHILDREN. 

Tidings of death are on the wing, 
Vague messages confound me. 

"In dream I start at empty sound, 
Nor voice, nor foot -step near me, 

'Neath shades of night I ramble round, 
Where Johnny used to cheer me." 

4 

Long, long she wanders, loosing strength, 
In wild, bewildering sorrow; 

Till pinching poverty, at length, 
Appears in haggard horror. 

November frowns with frosty air. 

That shakes the house -hold shivering. 

Their little feet are purple bare, 

That mother's heart is quivering. 

Then came the overseer cold 
As crag of icy ocean ; 
262 



THEIR POVERTY AND SEPARATION. 

Whose heart is stone, whose god is gold, 
And self is deep devotion. 

5 

Whom to dissuade, list ye the lad, 

The eldest of the three ; 
"My mother dear, spare her," he said, 

"Her little ones and me" 

"A soldier lived within this wall. 

He loved us ever chary; 
And when he heard his country's call, 

'Twas here he bade us tarry. 

"Leave me to dwell with kindred blood- 
Permit no dread division, 

For this, my father prayed of God> 
And praying, died in prison. 

"Near and more near as days depart. 

Endearments hold us hither; 

263 



THE LOST CHILDREN. 

Oh ! spare ye then a mother's heart, 
And let us live together." 

At this the overseer starts, 

And but a word advances, 

"What care have we for broken hearts? 
They'll favor our finances?" 

6 

Then at a poor-house, lone and sad, 
Cold negligence annoys her ; 

Grief can but make a mother mad, 
Yet perfidy destroys her. 

Mute there to brood beneath a cell. 
On what may next beset her. 

On sin and satan, death and hell. 
Made worse instead of better. 

One day that little train came in, 
Sweet Katie, John and brother; 
264 



HEAETLESSNESS. 

Each heart withheld a sigh within, 
But took their leave of mother. 

"With strange surprise she saw them start, 
And heard the carriage clatter, 

But ne'er to tears could move her heart, 
From that day ever after. 

A chill, like death, came o'er her frame, 

A paleness on her brow ; 
And what from simple sorrow came, 

Is morbid madness now. 

7 

As if from God, a spirit stood. 

To say it, once forever, — 
"Idols ye had, they're gone for good, 

Again ye '11 see them never. 

"In pain ye'd brought them each in turn, 

To this cold world of care, 
265 



THE LOST CHILDREN. 

Each tender foot had taught to spurn, 
Its vile besetting snare. 

"In sorrow struggling day by day, 

Intent to soothe distress, 
Ye've watched the midnight hours away. 

Their little lives to bless. 

"Now far away, forever gone. 
Where frailties find no limit. 

Where Christians made a Christian home. 
Yet satan lurks within it." 



Thus spake the ghost; — then fled on high 

Within the shady vapor; 
And left that mother with a sigh. 

For heartless human nature. 

That vapor cloud, still floating high, 
The breath of heaven bore it; 
260 



A VOIOK IX THE CLOUD. 

Above that infant train, and nigh, 
An angel went before it. 

It drooped for days in curtains dark, 
High o'er that home of horror. 

Then mth a forked lightning spark, 
Turned westward still to follow. 

Far there above the prairie plain, 
It mutters murky thunder. 

And drops a tear for the little train, 
Up gazing full of wonder. 

9 

Then from that cloud a message came, 
In soft but strange expression, — 

"From love of gain, vain man, refrain. 
It fosters vile oj^pression. 

"There is a God, in the heavens high, 
A hell of fire beneath it; 
267 



THE LOST CHILDREN. 

An angel spirit always nigh, 
How can ye disbelieve it? 

"A hell indeed for the priest that tries 

To gain a golden treasure, 
Nor heeds a pang of broken ties, 

To carry out the measure ; 

"That never hears the heart's complaint. 

Nor sees in pain, an evil, 
Who when the more 'he feigns the saint,' 

The more he serves the devil." 

10 

Still there he stands, too strange to tell, 

In godliness deceptive. 
With infant souls to let or sell. 

Who've thus been taken captive. 

Priest of the world ! go seek the swine, 
And take the husks they 're eating ; 
268 



WILD SHE SEEKS THEM. 

But ne'er to strut in robes divine, 
For money or for cheating.^^ 

'Tis you that voice bespeaks, beware; 

'Tis a shame^ the signs betoken ; 
For what beguiled a mother's care, 

A mother's heart hath broken. 

Time hath advanced, behold her now, 
By bond from bondage taken; 

Yet madness dwells upon her brow, 
Her nerves are quivering, shaken. 

11 
Away in mental morbid pain. 

She roams the desert dreary, 
Sure victim of unholy gain. 

In tangled path -ways weary. 

With holy Bible held at hand, 
In prayer, pathetic, ponders, 
269 



THE LOST CHILDREN. 

High on the hill -top takes a stand, 
Deep in the forest wanders. 

She calls and calls each child in turn, 
With trumpet tongue bespeaks them. 

Wild, 'neath the bending brake and fern. 
Far in the echo seeks them.^^ 

Angelic souls of kindred dead, 
Their vigils still are keeping. 

And from that cloud high over head, 
She hears the father speaking. 

'Mazed and bewildered at the sound. 
Her feeble frame is falling; 

Still, there's a cry up from the ground 
For Katie, Katie calling. 

Statutes of earth ! how frail and faint ! 
How coy, her court's condition ; 
270 



GIVE US A whip! 

How vain the inmost soul's complaintj 
A mother's meek petition!^ 

Father of love; — vouchsafe to tell, — 
Our hearts oppressed, yet praying, 

Why, in the sight of heaven and hell. 
Thy judgments are delaying! 

Grant to the world some lavj of Thine^ 
Or scourge to be relied on. 

Drive out the devil from deeds divine, 
And hypocrites from Zion ! 

12 

That wail of woe, no light it had. 
The evening shades came o'er it, 

High in the sky ^^itli murmurings mad, 
A fearful tempest bore it. 

Down to my door at night forlorn, 
I met her bending low, 
271 



THE LOST CHILDBEN". 

While yet, that cold, complaining stonn, 
Brings messages of woe. 

13 

Such, such is earth, — so often so, 

Fain would the heart abscond it! 

Its poisoned drugs we drink, but know 
There is a balm beyond it. 

Crime hath a fearful penalty, 

Oft meted out to sinners; 
A fool is but a specialty, 

The wise are always winners. 



ENDURANCE 



Te've heard she seeks her Katie mild, 
In thorny pathways pondering, 



HIDDEN FAR AWAY. 

Frantic to roam in deserts wild, 

Far in the wood -land wandering. 

Yet there's a calm in the morning light, 
And the noon is full of flowers; 

And love and hope are beaming bright, 
To lull the lingering hours. 

Her dove comes back to coo at dawn, 
And the sparrow chirps above her. 

Uncalled the petted patient fawn 
Stands at the door to love her. 

But waiting brings not Katie home, 
Nor wandering far to find her, 

A mother's cry the clouds bemoan, 
The sun but serves to Wind her. 

Life's weary day hath crushing care, 
And night hath pangs infernal; 
273 



ENDURANCE. 

Her every path -way holds a snare, 
Her wailings, wild, eternal. 

Quaint echo quick that plaint returns. 
On zephyrs softly sighing. 

And beauteous Nature, blushing, burns, 
Earth's cruelties denying. 

God give us balm! — for tedious years; 

Repentance! — for transgression; 
A vigorous faith for trouble and tears, 

Prompt vengeance — for oppression. 

274 




A NIGHT THOUGHT. 



PATERNAL. 

Washington, D. C, May 30, 1862.— Addressed to a little Miss who 
had returned to new england. 




|HY little bed is vacant; 

Now free from busy day, 
Our thought is fresh and fragrant, 
For Caddie far away. 



Ye Winds, my window pressing. 
Some Voice divine obey, 

And bear a father's blessing. 
To Caddie far away. 
275 



A NIGHT THOUGHT. 

Break not her calm reposes, 

Breathe vesjDers, meek and mild, 

Go, scatter garland roses, 
The lily, lovely, wild! 

Softly enchant her slumbers, 
With sweet angelic lay, 

In pure ecstatic numbers, 
From regions far away. 

Then hail the morn's bright breaking, 
Bring balmy, beauteous day. 
To thought divine awaking. 
My Caddie far away! 

276 




THE SOLDIER'S MOTHER. 



February 10, 1864. 




UITE far beyond the village din, 
(The shades of night are gathering in ;) 



A matron moves with faltenng tread, 
A sable shawl hangs o'er her head; 

She hath no heed while passing there. 
Of the outward world devoid of care. 



Yet up the frosty hill she sped. 
Passed many a mansion of the dead, 

277 



THE soldier's MOTHER. 

And winding through a narrow dell, 
Upon the drifted snow she fell ! 

Her right hand holds a new-made bier, 
Her left removes a falling tear, 

Her soul o'erwhelmed of anguish keen, 
'Tis o'er the grave of Frederick Greene. 



"Great God!" she prays, "is this the doom 
Of sons and mothers here below? 

"We press a pathway to the tomb. 
Yet ne'er can know another's woe. 

"Impart to us, a sinful race. 

Full knowledge of Thy sovereign power; 

"But spare! — oh, spare, with pardoning grace, 
A nation in her darkest hour. 

278 



HER PRAYER. 

"Thy judgments dread are in the cloud, 
There's fire tempestuous in the blast ; 

"We see Thy vengeance in the storm, 
Earth's armies, fearful, falling fast; 

"The ojDpressor, vile, provoked Thy wrath, 
In shame and sorrow, sad, confessed! 

" Obstruct the wayward tyrant's path, 
Relieve the bond -man, still o]3pressed ! 

"Forgive our crime! — distract the foe, 
That lurks in treason to destroy, 

"That brings a suppliant mother low, 
Still weeping o'er her darling boy ! " 



Above that i)rayer, a cloud arose. 
And dai-kness veiled that di'cad repose. 
279 



Yet there amid the storm that blew, 
Was heard a mother's last adieu! 

Then leaving lone that icy mound, 
Homeward inclined, she wanders 'round, 

Through many an unknown path and plot. 
Yet finds at length her long-left cot, 

Silent within! — no friend is there. 
Save Freddie's dog in faithful care. 

The flickering light had ceased to burn, 
So had the embers in their turn. 

There sunk to rest, where once her dead 
Had cradled, in a cotter's bed. 

Where memory dwells on all the past, 
The summer day — the winter's blast; 

Earth's cherished hopes, now known no more, 
And joys long lost, she ponders o'er; 
280 



HER DKEAM. 
4 

Still did the hail -storm beat io vain, 
True faith in God relieved her pain. 

Yet with the dreary tempest sound, 
Strange phantom shadows glided 'round. 

Till sleep benumbed a weary frame, 
As last was breathed that dearest name. 

5 

Now, drowned in balmy slumber's sway, 
The matron dreamed that night away 

In peaceful thought. In regions fair, 
She saw a mighty army there, — 

Away beyond Earth's battle - storm, 
And Freddie — still in uniform. 
281 




Deserted noTr TOtluii Avitliout, 

Alone aloof, upon a Mil. 
/aid rumoT rife hatli come about 
That ill those port-holes looKing oxd, 

The. laidxdght spectre hngers still. 




THE OLD GARRISON HOUSE. 



TALK WITH A GHOST, 

At my native Bakrington, N. H., Saturday Eve, 

October 20, 1866. 



(^arj^ 



■•^HEY'RE sacred now, these walls of wood! 
Ah! what can bear comparison! 
^^ From age to age they've nobly stood, 
They've braved the conflict, storm and flood 
Of the olden time, a Garrison. 



Deserted now, within, without. 
Alone, aloof, upon a hill, 
283 



THE OLD GARRISON HOUSE. 

And rumor rife hath come about, 
That "in those port -holes looking out, 
The midnight spectre lingers still." 

3 

And now, ye ghosts, if ghost there be, 

Speak! speak^ and tell us of the strife, 
When you had life and limbs as we, 
When panting pilgrims had to flee 

The tomahawk and scalping knife. 

4 

When in that boundless forest wild. 

At sound of war-whoop from afar, — 
How, anxious, up and down ye filed, 
And hewed the logs, and upward piled 

This fortress rude. How in dread war 

5 

At humble huts, far scattered wide, 

To toil ye gave the weary day, 

284 



SURROUNDED. 

Then driven here, at eventide, 
The child and mother, side by side, 

Fast winding through the thorny way. 

6 

Unheeded then the beasts of prey. 

The prowl of wolf no terrors brought, 
Nor rancorous reptiles in the way, 
The pilgrim heart knew no dismay, 

Save what the knife and faggot taught. 

7 
Within these doors then bolted fast. 

Say, what of dreams ? Pray speak and tell, 
How, oft amid the tempest blast. 
Ye heard the rattling arrows cast. 

The mid -night gun, the savage yell. 

8 

What tearful thought, and what the care. 
That moved the matrons, and the men 
285 



THE OLD GARRISON HOUSE. 

To hug sweet infants, cradled there, 
To guard the household, and to share 
The dangers dread impending then ! 

9 

And what when tedious years had passed, 

To mourn thy many kindred slain ! 
Here then, at peace, ye lived at last, 
Yet did the sands of life fall fast, 

And dust to dust returned again. 

10 

How then the spirit, wafted high. 

From lifeless nature 'neath the ground ; 
Then from the portals of the sky, 
'Mid clouds of night, — oh, tell us why 
In this old fort ye still are found ! 

11 
Whence are thy joys eternal, bright, 
As if ye had no faltering fear, 
286 



THE NATIVE TRIBES. 

No sad bereavement, pain nor blight, 

Nor care to cramp that calm delight, 

Foretold of faith in such career? 

12 

Ye've seen the tribes that roamed of yore, 

From Lovell's Lake to the foils of Berwick, 
Or down Cocheco's wood -land shore, 
Where Wat -die -no -it dipped his oar. 
At Dover old, or Squanomegonic.^ 

13 

Since then as now to the market town. 

From the hills afar, yet blue and bland, 
'Mid summer's heat or winter's froAvn, 
How settlers teamed their treasures down, 
Proud in the products of the land. 

14 

Their foot -prints firm are on the plain 

'Mid blighting frost, or vigorous health, 

287 



THE OLD GARRISON HOUSE. 

Where varied life of joy and pain. 
Hath learned of mother earth how vain 
Is pride, or fame, or sordid wealth! 

15 

Then tell ns true, if well ye may, 

Since tribe and pilgrim hither met; 
How generations lived their day, 
How each in turn have passed away, 
But where, O where, untold as yet ! 

16 

Of all that host, some knowledge lend, 

That from the world the years have hurried, 

Say, what of Waldron, what his end? — 

Old "Mi-an-to-ni-mo" his friend, 

And "Mossup slain yet kindly buried."^ 

17 

Say, if amid that spirit sphere. 

Ye have full knowledge freely given, 



THE SPECTRE SPEAKS. 

Why thus withhold from mortals here 
The glories grand, forever dear 

To thee and thine, of death and heaven. 

18 

The spectre, listening, seemed to move, 

Half hidden still within the wall. 
In garb of light and looks of love. 
With cadence strange as from above. 
Made answer thus, the one for all : 

19 

"Why thus should men make search to know 
Their final fate forever hidden ? 

Beyond this world of weal and woe. 

Your vision finite ne'er can go ; 

Enough for man it is forbidden. 

20 

"What truth in Abraham ye trace, 

And what of Israel's tribes are told, 

289 



THE OLD GARRISON- HOUSE. 

What Biinyan wrote of the pilgrim race, 
Ye well may know, and grow in grace. 
As the fathers foithful did of old. 

21 

" Enough ! and why should we disclose 
The purpose grand ordained above, 
Betray the trust that heaven bestows, 
And tempt the world from calm repose, 
Its tranquil life and truthful love. 

22 

"Then banish care! Earth can but see, 
Far in the cloud, a guardian hand; 

Nor heed the storm, alike as we, 

True mariners upon the sea. 

Ye '11 find the pilgrim's promised land." 

23 

The night -damp dark in curtains fell. 

Hushed were the hills and valleys green, 
290 



BECLOUDED. 



I bent my foot -step down the dell, 
A voice there whispered,— "All is well,"— 
And nothing more was said or seen. 

291 




SAM THE CARPENTER. 



1869. 
A WORD TO Sam at the building of a house that 

LOOKED LIKE AN ARK. 



^QJmNE other such there lived before, 
\xy In (lays of old — they call'd him Noah; 
'^ Who built an ark (like any squatter) 
And trusted God for wind and water. 

Then (as they say) when the fearful fountains 
Came rolling down the murky mountains, 
It knocked the ark away to swim. 
And the "hangers-on" went tumbling in. 

Some took it faithless — some in fun, 
"'Tis but a shower," were the words of one; 
292 



SAVE YOUR NEIGHBORS. 

Still to tlie ark, they turned to swim, 
But Noah cried — "Ye can't come in! 

Sarn^ save your neighbors! — Let us know 
When next the the angry floods shall flow? 
Your ark all rigged — we well may chance it, 
Sure — tell us — when ye '11 try to launch it I 

293 





LOSS OF LOVE. 




'VE heard from him but once a week!" 
I Thus murmurmg did the maiden speak ; 

In faith I turned to tell her, then: 
The ink had frozen in the pen. 

When latent fires are held, at will, 
Beneath a frost-bound, heavy hill,— 
Thence can ye see volcanic flame? 
Man's heart is heavy, much the same. 

If darkness dwell beyond the night, 
Or dews congeal in frigid blight, 
295 



LOSS OF LOVE. 

Alas! for thrift or glow or blaze, 
Without inspiring, genial rays. 

What though ye ferret out the cause 
Of this or that in Nature's laws, 
Of this or that in erring man ; 
'Tis but in vain ye '11 try to scan 

The inmost soul ! The promptings, why 
Full many a swain have stept awry, 
Ye cannot tell, — yet fain would ken : 
The ink had frozen in the pen. 

Unhappy Miss! pray heed the laws 
Of Nature's God, and learn the cause 
Of wayward life. Too true of men, 
The ink congealeth in the pen. 

Still oft, how wondrous hard to find 
What shapes the frailties of mankind! 
296 



ENDURE HARDXESS. 

Or how to heal a hapless wound, 

From "the green-eyed monster" creeping 'round 

Imagined wrongs are bitter foes; 
Seek to avoid unwelcome woes, 
And learn forsooth, 'tis not complaint, 
That makes "a Joseph" or a saint; 

But love so true, so prompt and pure, 
As through all trials to endure. 
It melts the frigid hearts of men ; 
And swre, the ink will "go it" then. 
297 




AN AUTOGRAPH 



This lyric is addressed to the author's Patrons. Seven books containing 
their signatures are delivered to S. K. H., Esq., ex-President of the Middlesex 
Mechanics' Association, to be deposited in their public libraiy for preservation and 
future reference. Their names were appended. 




|)N autograph of many a friend, 

Impressed, you'll find it, on these pages; 
-^W^ My "Merrimac," we greeting send, 
And other volumes — ne'er to lend, 

Through Time's eventful future ages. 
299 



AN AUTOGBAPH. 

What better boon could I bestow, 

To thee or thine in friendship kind? 
'Mid toil or care 'tis sweet to know, 
That from the world whene'er we go, 
We've left an autograph behind. 

2 

Here will you find a favorite name ; 

And many memories call to mind, 
Ye '11 trace perhaps some fault, or fame. 
Yet soon with all 'twill be the same, 

A mere memento, left behind. 

While yet ye note some sign of age, 
Or liardy hand or youthful mind, 
If generous hearts your thought engage, 
Ye '11 find them written on the page 
Of autographs, here left behind. 

And while ye seek the joys that flow 

From flit!) fill friend or neighbor kind, 
300 



KINDLY GIVEN. 

'Twill grateful be to feel and know, 
The heart that felt another's woe, 
Hath left an autograph. 

Then if adown the leaf across, 

A soldier brave ye seek and find, 

'Tis he who counts the world but dross, 

In truth a soldier of the cross 
Hath left an autograph. 

And if ye follow further o'er, 

Still true to charity inclined. 
Ye '11 find the hand that fed the poor. 
That noble soul, to be no more. 
Hath left an autograph. 

All these ye '11 count with candid grace. 
As true and just; — to faith inclined; 

All in thine heart shall find a place. 

Descendants of a Saxon race. 

Of noble blood and lofty mind. 
301 



AN AUTOGRAPH. 
3 

Far from a wave -worn, barren bluff, 

"We're outward bound; — yet fain would find, 
Beyond the angry billows, rough, 
A sphere congenial — 'tis enough, — 
A brief memorial left behind! 

Down that dark wave, still going, gone, 

A train aloof — we follow near, — 
Yet when an hundred years have flown, 
What though we'll wander back, unknown — 
Vain! — vain to seek a comrade here! 

Whom we may see at that far day, 

At the native home or in the hall; 
What we will know or feel to say, 
To pilgrims here, then on their way 
Remains a mystery for all. 

Yet will we scan, bright rolling down, 
Our proud old Merrimac amain; 
302 



ONE HUNDRED YEAES. 

How gladly then, when Lowell town, 
In vast progression and renown 

Looms up in beauty, once again! 

Lo ! then we '11 trace, with vision keen. 

The church grown old^ the faded dome ; 
The deep worn street, we once had seen, 
The giant shade -trees on the green. 

And the marble criimhling at the tomb! 

Then down the way seen there, at will. 

The full-grown throngs that crowd the gate, 

The shop, the school -house, and the mill. 

In every vale, on every hill. 

With strange inventions made of late. 

Ardent at work we'll note, as now, 
The lawyer, doctor, and divine. 
Each in his place, and further how 
The gardner, trudging, drives his plow, 

Increased ten -fold from the olden time. 
303 



AN AUTOGRAPH. 

We'll see the merchant at his trade, 

With all the hosts that toil for gain, 
Of every kindred, name and grade, 
Deep hoarding wealth, with schemes well laid, 
Still heedless of fatigue or pain. 

Then once again, list! list the bell! 

It chimes afar, from yonder steeple! 
Grown old and worn, yet sounding well, 
Down fronl the past in faith to tell : 

Sweet memories, true, of a sainted people !*^ 

That hundred years — as of the past, 

Old Time keeps tally, quick to count it, 

Nor life, nor lot hath man to last ; 

Fixed to the world a care is cast. 

Yet faith and labor shall surmount it. 

4 

This is no gaudy gift, you see, 

No pearly gem, nor gold refined, 
304 



OUR MEMENTO. 

It is a sig7i^ a token free, 
An emblem true to thine and thee, 
The mark of an immortal mind. 

Lead us to science, love, and art. 

And cherish life's memento, true; 
'Tis manhood's noblest, proudest part, 
To hold that golden rule at heart. 

Which heaven prescribes to me and you. 
305 




OUR PIONEERS. 



The following epic was addressed to the daughters of New England on 
the Contoocook Island in New Hampshire, June 17, 1874, at the unveiling of 
the granite statue which stands on the rise of ground where Hannah Duston, 
with Mary Neflf her maid, and Samuel Leonardson the boy, arose at midnight, 
and in front of the wigwam camp-fires slew ten of their cruel captors. 

These victims were Indians, who with their tribes at Haverhill, Mass , fif- 
teen days previously, had burned down nine dwelling-houses, killed twenty - 
seven of its inhabitants, one being the infant daughter of our heroine ; and 
on the same day took away thirteen captives. The monument was erected as 
a tribute to the faithfulness, endurance, and valor of the primeval New-Eng- 
land mothers. 

[Maternal, Historic, Progressive.] 

1 

Ye daughters fair, from many a town 

Of the noblest stock in the world's renown, 

We've come to lay our trophies down 

Here at thy feet. 

Your hopeful halves, 3'our little ones, 

The force and valor of j^our sons, 

Your love at heart, warm as it runs,^ 

We grateful greet. 

306 



TRIUMPHANT. 



We've come inspired of the fond old mothers : 
Their sainted care still o'er us hovers ; 
Daring in deeds transcending others 

Mid life's relations. 
Their kindly natures, firm defial, 
Their souls triumphant through all trial, 
To truth and faith and self-denial 

We bring oblations. 

3. 
To this we've come from the mountain side, 
Far out from where wild waters glide, 
Up where old ocean turns her tide 

To memories dear ; 
From where Monadnoc pours her rills, 
From Franklin's favored wild-wood hills. 
From floods afar that roll their mills, 

We volunteer. 

4. 

We've roamed where the red man roamed of yore, 
On man}^ a highland hunted o'er. 
On the shores where oft he dipt his oar. 
Trailing along. 

307 



PIONEERS. 

We've stood where the heaven-taught Pilgrim stood; 
Out from the fields once stained of blood, 
We bring glad tidings of our God ; 
We swell the throng. 

5. 
Down from the lakes uncounted numbers, 
From mountains mighty, full of wonders ; 
From where Niagara's torrent thunders, 

Vast for renown ; 
Far up from Massachusetts Bay, 
From the Heights of Abram, the other way, 
We hail old Contoocook to-day, 

Still rolling down. 

6. 
Onward as ever, balmy, beauteous, 
'Neath sun or cloud, serene, salubrious. 
To God and man forever duteous, 

Ye move amain ; 
Thy banks, thy waves, the wild deer loved; 
Thy power the tribes of yore approved : 
Of thee the pilgrim heart was moved: 

Hail, once again ! 

308 




THE CONTOOCOOK. 



THEIR GREETINGS. 

7. 
Hither we've come in pathways winding, 
Mid light and shade, and sorrows blinding; 
Yet do we heed fond mothers minding; 

From above they look : 
Our fathers, too, brave spirits they, 
Stand high on many a cloud to-day, 
To greet creation on the way 

To the Contoocook. 

8. 

Sons of New England, daughters too, 
There's many a heart in faith for you. 
True thanks to bring, and honors due 

In measures double. 
For generous natures, ways of winning. 
For faithful house-wives, frugal spinning, 
For orators, your dead and living. 

And patriots noble. 

y. 
For husbandry to gladden the soil. 
For hearts that beat for truth and toil; 
Whose rectitude could ne'er recoil 
In thought or deed ; 

309 



PIONEERS. 

For men of learning, men of light, 
Valiant for justice, God, and right ; 
Translated man}^, the3''re still in sight, 
We give them heed. 

10. 
Your Hiltons, Thompsons, Pilgrims pure, 
Their fame, their faith, shall ever endure ; 
Your Putnams, Stark, and Molly, sure, — 

All, all are here. 
Your natives and primeval comers. 
Your Waldrons, Went worths, and your Plummers, 
Uncounted sonls of bygone summers. 

Bring memories dear. 

11. 
Your SuUivans, 3'our Masons meet us ; 
Your Websters, Greeleys, Woodburys weet us ; 
Most graciously they've come to greet us : 

We hail them nigh. 
Brave, welcome spirits, sainted, fair ; 
They linger in the purple air 
With whisperings vague, yet vocal there: 

They're from on high. 

310 



THE REVOLUTION. 

12. 
The}' mind us of primeval ^ears, 
Of Indian war-whoop, death, and tears ; 
When faith in Pilgrim pioneers 

Came forth revealed. 
How, when the British lion roared, 
And tax and tea went overboard. 
And shot and shell and powder poured 

On the crimson field. 

13. 
How first the fathers took their station 
Against a reckless, rude taxation. 
To avert the heartless, vile vexation 

Of war : 'twas vain ! 
Then how the firelock, rusty old. 
True Yankee valor did unfold, — 
Of this ten thousand things are told. 

Far known of fame. 

14. 

And how, when seven years had flown, 

Victorious veterans to the town. 

Homeward in squads came limping down 

In broken ranks ; i 

311 



PIONEERS. 

The uniform, the cornered hat, 
The gaiters, breeches, and all that ; 
And hearts of maidens "pit-a-pat" 
Made mazy pranks. 

15. 
Grave men and mothers gathered nigh; 
Strange acclamations fill the sky : 
Magnanimous manhood stands on high, 

In garnished glor}'. 
They'd waded through tempestuous war, 
Their flesh all furrowed, seam, and scar, 
'Ten thousand tongues proclaimed afar 

A tragic story. 

16. 
Peace came, and plenteousness combine, 
'Good manners crowned that olden time ; 
And the God of love gave days divine 

To the Pilgrim sons. 
Their daughters too, taught well of the mothers, 
Loved labor then as did their brothers, 
And held it high to all the t' others, 

Their little ones. 

312 



WAR OF 1812. 
17. 

Health moved that meek advancing train : 

From war and blood it bloomed again ; 

And the night-cloud dark at length became 

Fair^ glorious morn; 

The forest fed her buds anew ; 

The flowery fields beamed bright with dew ; 

And the harvests, prompt, were generous too, 

In golden corn. 

18. 

Thus had the generations flown, 

Prolific, true in faith their own. 

When a war-trump bleak again is blown 

These vales along. 
It doomed the port to a sad seclusion 
Inflated fear to a fierce confusion, 
A waste of wealth and destitution 

To the Yankee throng. 
19. 
It roused the realm to resolution, 
At Little Harbor, constitution, 
Vociferous crowds for revolution, 

Flagrant they swell ; 

313 



PIONEERS. 

They'd come to beard the British lion, 

In Devil-daring to defy 'im, 

With bombshells huge to tease and try 'im, 

And give 'im h — 11. 

20. 
Hail, hail, that hero here to-day, 
Who stood high up in battle array 
With a soul on fire, came forth to obey 

His country's call ! 
They're like the leaf last on the tree, — 
Mild mariners of a stormy sea: 
They're a glorious pattern for you and me: 

Thanks, thanks for all! 

21. 

Then fifty years of plenteous peace 
Fed well the folds with a rich increase, 
And gave to the land a full release 

From waste and care ; 
Meanwhile old Dame inspired her throngs, 
And the beauteous birds sung well their songs, 
To the heavens afar triumphant tongues, 

Made music there. 

314 



THE REBELLION. 

22. 

Earth pregnant filled her ranks humane, 
Full man}^ a state, a vast domain ; 
And the gods on high were proud again 

Of a nation noble. 
High, then, alas ! revolving time 
Upturned the world to a dread decline: 
Rebellion born of hell and crime 

Draped earth in trouble. 

23. 
Thence came forebodings of the morrow, 
A people pale, oppressed of sorrow, 
Portentous war of blood and horror, 

A world of woe. 
But victory turned that cloud away; 
And brighter glimmered, o'er the way, 
All round the world a better day, 

Above, below. 

24. 

Thus do the waves of strife betide 
The path of mortals in their pride ; 
And Fate and Fortune side by side 
Trudge in the train ; 

315 



PIONEERS. 

High now, afar from foe or fears, 
We've never a danger, dearth, nor tears: 
Entranced we greet the happy years : 
(Hail !) all hail again ! 

25. 

Brief thus hath history told the tale, 
That saw the sunshine, storm, and gale, 
Since Mother Duston followed the trail 

Of the Pennacook ; 
Down thence, they say, there's been no lack 
Of sainted souls on the Merrimack, 
Far in the cloud oft coming back 

To the Contoocook. 

26. 

Thanks ! thanks^ ' we give for a world begun, 
For duties daily, promptly done. 
For glorious victories nobly won. 

For life and love ; 
For holiness and hearts upright. 
For peace and plenty, gospel light. 
For sun and moon and the stars at night, 

And a heaven above ; 

31G 



THE UNVEILING. 
27. 

For a God who moves the minds of men 
To generous deeds, ilUistrious when 
They lift the heart, the hand, the pen, 

To a lofty custom ; 
To a gift from the sculptor's graphic hand, — 
An emblem glorious and grand. 
Unveiled to the world for aye to stand, — 

Our Mother Duston ! 



317 



THE MEEEIMAC 



AND ITS INCIDENTS, 



MY MORNING RAY, 



AND OTHER POEMS. 



THREE VOLUMES IN ONE. 
VOL. III. 



With Notes appended. 



^0 tfjt 

KEY. THEODORE EDSON, D. D. 

FIRST RECTOR OF THE 

FIRST CHURCH (ESTABLISHED IN 1824) IN LOWELL, "THE FIEU>»» 

WHERE 

ELLIOT, 

IN 1674, PREACHED TO THE TRIBES OF 

WONALANGET, 

THIS VOLUME IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED. 



THE MERRIMAC, 




ELESTIAL Bards ! in magic numbers skilled 

We thee invoke ; lolio, blest with music filled, 

p Chant high in heaven above, yet present 

Deign oft to witness in this earthly sphere 

What mortals do, and what of good or ill 

In truthful song is celebrated still, 

And what of beauty grand in Nature lives, 

What Heaven ordains and what experience gives, 

Yet left unsung, — inspired attend, repair 

Up to yon mountain-top, in regions fair, 

Where prospect wide above the woodland shade 

Unfolds the works creative wisdom made, — 
323 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Survey proud Merrimac/ whose praise we sing, 
And to miue aid some grateful measure bring, — 
Some note of landscape grand in dale and hill, 
Adorned with glittering lake, cascade, or rill. 
With forest wild, with winding wave between 
The giant groves along the valley green; 
Fair floral regions sweet at early dawn, 
And fields of lihes in the dewy lawn, — 
Whate'er thy vision meets, o'er all the plain, 
From mountain height to ocean's wide domain^ 
Of rural Nature or of handy Art, 
In truthful numbers faithfully impart. 
Nor sights alone observe, but sound, of birds, 
The lambkin-bleatings, and the lowing herds, 
The cuckoo's echo at the close of day, 
And wakeful whippoorwilPs wild warbling lay. 
That cheer the vale ; — with chime of village bell. 
Which wakes, to thought divine, Pilgrims that dwell 

324 



ITS CREATION. 

AloDg the broad highway, — whose voices swell 
Praises to Him who ^' doeth all things well ; " — - . 

With these and raore, our humble song indite, 
That tend to raise the soul by Nature's light 
To light of Heaven, and to the fruitful source 
Whence all things came to pass and took their 
course. 

Sweet river ! tliy true source, which angels sung 
At the creation when the world begun, 
We seek; and how thy rills of chaos, horn, 
First leaped, rejoicing in their native form; — 
When bleak New England's height began to rise. 
And moon and stars just formed lit up the skies ; 
How the Great God on high, with outstretched 

hand. 
Divided waters from the massive land, 
325 



THE MERRTMAC. 

Scooped the vast concave of the ocean bed, 
And infant channels for the rivers made ; 
And how and when his wisdom next arranges 
To move the stagnant floods by natural changes, 
Compel the seas their rugged bounds forsake, 
Becloud the hills, and shining rivers make ; 
To make thin vapors, heated to excess, 
On ocean more, on terra-firma less, 
Out from the briny waves incessant rise 
Above the hills, and back to other skies. 
Combine in clouds, and vast collections form, 
Spreading the heavens with impending storm. 
Whence earth itself full formed begins to move 
Through mighty conflicts by the hand of Jove 
Outward and onward from its native source 
Round with the whirling spheres to take its course. 

Now tlien the forked light, ascending high, 
326 



ITS FIRST STORM. 

Unveils the terrors of a troubled sky ; 
Tempestuous gales in darkness intervene, 
Sweeping the world with howlings in extreme 
And thunderings loud ; the clouds, let loose in drops, 
Dash down their showers on the mountain-tops. 

Then leap the streamlets from the mountain- 
waste 
As if by stern command requiring haste, 
As if God^s power with screw and lever plied, 
Squeezing the lofty hills to raise the tide. 
Would drown the earth in awful floods sublime, 
For local sin, or want of faith divine. 
As since in wrath he did in Noah's time. 

Thus at creation's dawn did Merrimac 

Begin to flow. The storm subsides, and light, 

Bright gleaming sunbeams, broke from sable night. 

327 



THE MERRIMAC. 

And now the Sweeping Wave, with banks o'erflown, 
Brilliant and grandy ^mid azure splendor shone, 
JioUs 071, — and with accumulated force 
Of mighty waters on their destined course 
Through naked banks, ne'er washed by waves 

before, — 
Now curving o'er the cliff with dashing roar 
Of cataract ; now swelling far and wide 
Down sloping vales in full majestic tide ; 
Then gliding smooth, as plain or meads ensue, 
In tranquil pride resplendent bravely through, 
Conveys her fountains to the untried shore 
Where wave or flood had never reached before, — 

To form a sea, and on the world bestow 
A vast highway, with tides to ebb and flow ; 
In light refulgent, in extent sublime. 
To swarm with joyous life through endless time, 

328 



CLOrDS FPOM THE SEA. 

To float huge ships in commerce and ,in strife, 
Of unborn nations, waking into life. 
Through constant heat her atoms rise again 
Floating in transit backward whence thej came, 
Feeding the stream with purer founts anew, 
Which, made eternal^ onward still pursue ; 
Both flood and vapor in one circuit run, 
Like planet in her orb about the sun, 
Or, like the life-blood coursing through the vein 
By means of arteries return again, 
Sustaining man's frail body from his birth, — 
So moving waters do the vital earth ; 
Pervading Nature's germs and fibres free. 
Upward in channels creep through herb and tree, 
They deck tlie daisy in her checkered bloom, 
And swell the rose to yield a sweet perfume. 
Are felt in trunk, in branch, in bud and leaves, 
» And thence escape in clouds, borne on the breeze;- — 

329 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Emblem of the " Eternal I " in their round 
E'er free to give, but ne'er exhausted, found. 

Next near the shore now gliding glittering seen, 
Minnows innumerous in the waters green, 
Minute in size, some faster fuller grown. 
Each for an end, yet then unseen, unknown, 
In caves now playful cautious prone to be, 
Then out in depth of waters sporting free. 
Each draws from Heaven the fleeting breath of life, 
Here to subsist through elemental strife, 
Varied in species, color, and in form. 
Some cold in temperament, others warm. 
Each to its kind attached, prolific, free 
To seek and share a common destiny. 
In lapse of time, from tiny minim grown, 
The whale loomed up in vast proportion shown, — 
Now restl<^ss seeks more spacious depths to gain. 



ITS FIRST FISH. 

And finds a homestead in the briny main. 
Huge sturgeons, too, — all fish of larger growth, — 
Swelled the deep current seaward^ splashing forth ; 
While smaller forms, as trout and pickerel, 
Inhabit native stream, content to dwell 
Fresh-water tenants, tranquil quite as yet, 
By foe unsought, unhurt by hook or net. 

While others rove. The favorite salmon tries 
The Arotic seas, in light of other skies ; 
Yet oft as spring betides the Merrimac, 
His out-bound path he fondly follows back 
With finny tribes. Then through the inlets trace 
A countless progeny, an infant race 
From hidden spawns, to swarm the harmless shore, 
Then gambol outward, onward, as before, 
Quiet, yet quick in transit to and fro, 
E'er keen to see, what makes for weal or woe, 

331 



THE MERRIMAC. 

They drink sweet joys in light of nature given, 
And fill a purpose grand, ordained of Heaven. 

Meanwhile the tree for fruit and forest, sprung 
From latent life beneath the soil, begun 
To spread in varied shadows mother earth, 
Verdant and fruitful ; in productive birth. 
Alike of insects strange, of beast or bird, 
In pairs connubial, fit for flock or herd. 
As thus 'mid thicket dense, or bower green. 
In earth or air, at first half hidden seen, 
The merest mites; — thence formed and fluttering 

move, 
Unfeathered owls, the raven, hawk, and dove ; — 
Whence flaunts the eagle due in course of time. 
And songsters, warbling, wing for every clime. 
Whence all the nervy tenants of the air. 
From proudest swan to flitting insect rare ; 



THE FIRST INDIAN. 

Whence clods of earth and drops of water pure, 
First fraught with life, with life can but endure. 

Of tardy growth sleek whelps in tiny form, 
From latent caverns in the hill-side warm, 
Of lion race, and beasts of other kind, 
At length emerge and habits varied find. 

Th€n next from curious germ beneath the sod, 
Now blest in needful care of Nature's God, 
Whose eye all-seeing here began to scan 
The strange invention of mysterious man, — 
By vigorous thrift, as fell the beaming rays 
Of Phoebus, fitly felt on vernal days. 
Came forth an Indian's^ infant form divine, 

* The natives were called Indians by Columbus through mistake, 
who at first supposed he had arrived on the eastern shore of India, 
by which error they took their name. 

333 



THE MERRIMAC. 

First spawn of manhood on the stream of time; 
Basking in valleys wild, earth-formed, earth-fed 
For ripened age, — by native reason led. 
And chief o'er beast and bird in power became 
A fitful terror to the timid game. 

Increased at length by nature's self-same law& 
To numerous tribes prolific, men and squaws. 
From artful wigwams new, spread o'er the land, 
First skill evinced in architecture grand. 
He wanders wild, belted with arrows keen, 
And blest with knowledge right and wrong between, 
A stately Priest at peace. Provoked to strife, 
He wields a hatchet and a scalpirig-knife 
With dire revenge. E'er true to self and squaw 
He knows no faith, no code, but Nature's law. 
His footsteps fondly dwell where now we trace 
Primeval heirlooms of the human race ; 

334 



INDIAN INVENTIONS. 

The chisel smooth and tomahawk first made 
Of stone, ere Art had formed the iron blade ; 
Where, from a narrow dock with native crew, 
He launched, in naval pride, the first canoe 
And ploughed the Merrimac. His dripping oar 
Ripples the waters never pressed before, — 
Bestirs the scaly tribes to nervous fear 
For rights most sacred thus invaded here. 
As if by instinct they the chieftain knew 
To be a tyrant and a glutton too, 
Intent on native beast, oa bird or fish. 
By slaughter dire to fill a dainty dish ; 
Whose webs are 7iets from bark of trees alone, 
And mills that grind are mortars made of stone ; 
Who clothed his tribes, if clad they e'er appear. 
In raiment plundered from the bounding deer; 
Who maketh treacherous hooks from guiltless bones, 
And drags a deadly net o'er sacred homes. 

335 



THE MEEEIMAC. 

And thuSf o^er land and stream for ages long, 
A race of red men, vagrant, plod along, 
With language, taught from rustic Nature's throne, 
And habits, each peculiarly their own ; 
On growth spontaneous fed, content with prey, 
What serves the purpose of a single day. 
Their God is seen afar at rise of sun ; 
Their life in heaven is hunting here begun ; 
By laws unwritten, Sachems rule the tribes, 
And lead the host, wherever ill betides, 
To fatal war. By force of arrows, hurled, 
They reigned sole monarchs in this western world. 

The countless years thus passed of man's career, 
Fraught with achievements oft enacted here j 
With works of skill, what human thought could 

do ; 
With grand exploits, or deeds of direful hue; 



OLD SQUANTO. 

With kings and prophets, chief in note or worth, 
Through generations vast, transpired on earth, 
Make but a blank in time's historic lore, 
Till voyagers from another world came o'er; — 
Columbus first of all ; then many more 
Within a hundred years then next, before 
The Pilgrims land,^ — adventurers indeed, — 
From Adam sprung, juniors in race and breeds 
But versed in letters, statute law, and art. 
Seniors in science, just in head and heart. 

They meet old Squanto wandering here alone, 
Who, sore depressed, bereaved of friends and home, 
Recounts events which true tradition brought, 
Of Indian life, what sad experience taught, 
How, far and near, the dead unburied lay. 
His own Patuxet tribes all swept away ; 
Yet nations seaward, deep in woods afar, 

337 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Spared from the scourge of pestilence and war, 
Still thrive. There Massasoit, whose power main- 
tains 
The peace of tribes, in full dominion reigns. 

From thence Samoset comes, with heart and 

hand, 

'To "welcome Englishmen" and grant them land, 

His visage dark with long and raven hair, — 

No treacherous marks his beardless features bear; 

With frame erect and strangely painted o'er, 

Belted around his loins, a Sagamore, 

Whose bony arm a bow and arrow held, 

A heart unsoiled his tawny bosom swelled 

To generous deeds. He broken English spake. 

And talked anon of men, — of Francis Drake,' 

That gallant white man, years before who came, 

And gave New Albion her historic name, — 

338 




SAMOSET. 




SIR FRANCIS DRAKE. 

From an old English painting.] 



KING MAbSASOIT. 

Of Captain Smith who since surveyed the coast, 
And other voyagers, now a scattered host, — 
Of former days some history tried to give, 
And '^ lay of land " where rambling red men live. 
Truthful Samoset proves, and seeks to bring 
The Pilgrim saiats in audience with his king. 

Then Massasoit, the king, and chiefs appear; 
As well the governor and suit draw near. 
By music led, and soldiers at command. 
Clad in the homespun of a foreign land. 
And greet the king. The Mtig no armor bears, 
Save on his breast a knifelike weapon wears. 
White beads about his neck, a gaudy ring, 
And quaint tobacco bag, suspended by a string, 
Comprise the insignia of his regal power. 
Known and observed of nations as of yore. 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Both king and chiefs, with painted features, 
wear 
Feathers disjoined from birds of plumage rare, 
But little else. Kindly in turn they greet '^ 
The Pilgrim band, and down in group now seat 
Themselves, holding discourse of allied strength 
In treaty,* and, when all agreed, at length, 
They pass the pipe around, each drink^ in turn. 
A sacred compact thus they all confirm, — 
A treaty wise, that full contentment gives 
For fifty years while Massasoit lives. 

Squanto meanwhile who'd served a peaceful end, 

And in the Pilgrims' God had found a Friend 

Bereaved and worn by care of bygone years 

In mazy pathways through a vale of tears, 

Falls sick ; and as by fever low depressed, 

And life in doubt, to Pilgrims thus addressed 

340 






-cs <<s;n: 




tisquantum's will. 

His sovereign will : " This hunting-ground is mine ; 
The lakes, the vales, those mountain heights sublime, 
The green-grown banks where Merrimac bright glows 
And all the hills far as Pawtucket goes, — 
These spacious wilds, my kindred, now no more, 
In full dominion held, and hunted o'er ; 
Then dying, all their titles thence descend 
To me, TiSQUANTUM,' now so near this end 
Of life. To thee, my Pilgrim Friends, I give 
This broad domain ; here may the white man 

live ; — 
My bow and arrow, too, — I give thee all. 
Hence let me go, obedient to the call 
Of angel Death. Adieu ! " 

Thus gracious dies 
The last red man beneath Patuxet skies, 
And thus the English sole possession share, 
By will from Squanto, all this region fair, 

341 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Forever thence, to lay the forest low, 
To fence fair fields, and drive the crooked plough, 
To waste the wigwams which for ages spread 
The wild, and build broad mansions in their stead ; 
Schoolhouses, temples to the God of grace. 
And cities proud, peculiar to the race 
Of Adam. Diligent through honest toil, 
They reap rich harvest from the virgin soil. 
From culture urged with bold, aggressive sway. 
Wild beasts, becoming frantic, flee away. 
As ravenous bears and moose and wolves recede 
Black-cat-tie and the noble horse succeed 
In aid of husbandry.* Full flocks abound ; 
The herds increase as roll the seasons round; 
The desert e'en, through culture's grateful care, 
Soon set with fruit, begins to bloom and bear; 
Fair Nature smiles responsive to the plan 
Of faith in God and industry of man. 

342 



PHILIP IN COURT. 

Next follows war. Dread anarchy appears, 
As if to blast the crowning thrift of years 
At death of Massasoit. Philip succeeds 
As king,^ and hostile to the whites proceeds 
To flagrant deeds ; and first of all in time, 
A native priest,*" suspected of no crime 
But to have broached a secret plot, is slain '* 
By murderous hand. On Philip rests this stain 
Of blood ; and Justice stern but waits to draw 
Her penal sword by force of English law 
Against the natives. 'Tis not long withheld ; 
By strong indictment seized, arraigned, and held, 
Tobias and confederates are tried 
By petit-jury, white and red allied, 
Whose doubtful jurisdiction Philip pleads, 
And to address the Forum thus proceeds : — 

* John Sassamon. 
348 



THE MERRIMAC. 

**What right, what law, these prisoners to ar- 
raign 
Have Englishmen in this my own domain? 
What lease of venue from allotted lines 
To make invasion and adjudge of crimes ? 
Why seek the Indian's life in guile forlorn — 
Of these three men of native mothers born; 
Who, one and all, with Sassamon, the slain, 
Were my liege subjects, bound by laws the same 
Which governed tribes a thousand years ago, 
But which evaded brings an endless woe ? 
What mind, what project, prompts your boundless 

sway 
But hence to drive the red man far away 
From this fair lard, his birthright and his wealth, 
And hold these regions vast through royal stealth ? 
With flagrant wrong the tribes will ne'er concur, 

And to your bold intrusion I demur ! 

344 



Philip's war. 

My subjects here an English court may try ; 
By spurious judgments, they may fall and die ; 
Yet vengeance dread shall point the red man's steel, 
And to the God of battles 111 appeal." 

Philip withdrew, and ne'er returned again ; 
His truthful talk was uttered but in vain. 
The prisoners held and thus condemned to die 
Brought darkness gathering o'er the western sky. 
" The bloody sunset " and the forked light 
That broke the curtain of that fearful night, 
Awaking English matrons, 'mid alarms, 
To hug sweet infants with tenacious arms, 
Foretold gross carnage of successive years 
And devastation in a land of tears. 

True to his word, which prudence thus defied, 

PhiHp the Pilgrims fought, and, fighting, died," 

345 



THE MERRIMAC. 

With countless victims by the self-same blade, 
Which mutual madness had in folly made. 

And which in blood by oft-recurring strife 
Through conflicts desperate kindled into life 
By hate implacable still lingering long 
Avenges Philip's death, and flagrant wrong 
Remembered well, encroachmeyits rash, designed, 
Repeated oft, as self had long inclined 
The strangers here. But through the lapse of timu, 
Whence wayward hearts to better faith incline, 
Whence discord wanes away, — then truth began 
To shed with light the vagrant paths of man ; 
Distracted foes their errors soon discern, 
And back to reason once again return. 

Then Peace, that welcome harbinger of health, 

Of generous thrift, foreshadowing weal and wealth, 

346 



ADVENT OF PEACE. 

Brings her glad tidings down and cheers the land, 
With prompt good-will, and noble deeds at hand, 
To heal the broken heart, to make amends 
For wilful waste, which from the past descends. 

Thence this fair vale from mountain to the main 

In vernal grandeur buds to bloom again, 

And plenteous harvest with her golden ears 

Crowning the prudence of progressive years 

Adorns the field, and grace triumphant gives 

To honest toil. Here Wonalancet'" lives 

Unscathed by war, a sachem wise and true, — 

Of fragment tribes still roving far and few 

Along these banks where Pennakook '^ had stood 

For countless years, through tempest, storm, and 

flood ; — 

And further seaward where Wamesit^'' lies, 

Still well intrenched, a wigwam city thrives, 

347 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Rightly reserNTed the home of hunters here, 
A fort within, and habitations dear 
To friendly red men. While from dearth released, 
From scourge of conflict and in strength increased, 
Through many a favored year the Pilgrim mind, 
By faith and works, religious freedom find ; 
Such as the Fathers sought and had foretold 
Should come, in grace abounding as of old. 

At length the French with England disagree, 
Which next portends what carnage hence shall be. 
What man's estate must prove, — a varied life ; — 
From quiet peace proceeds terrific strife; 
From plenty, dearth; from faith and virtue, sin; 
From health, disease, that wages war within. 

Thus strangely intermixed are good and ill ; 

True to the purpose of a sovereign will 

348 



MATERNAL LOVE. 

Nature but thrives by fire that burns within, 
From planets broken, other worlds begin. 
Yet bloody conflicts, such the world abhor 
As mark the advent of avenging war; 
And such the crime that now involves the race, 
Fraught with its cruel curse and deep disgrace. 
That through successive years again devours 
The vital substance of contending powers. 

From war-whoops wild, and earth in crimson 

glow, 

A wail goes up, — a note of woman's woe ! 

Fierce vengeance tempts her singleness of heart. 

Her heroism true, her guileless art. 

Her purity, her own maternal care. 

Her faith in God, that never knows despair, 

Her love indeed, that triumphs most and best 

In trial sad, when most by danger pressed ; 

349 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Whose truth endures, when fails our vital breath, 
Inspires fond hope, and smooths the bed of death. 

Such were the hearts whose wails went up 
afar, 
That brooked the fury of King WiUiam's War ; " 
Whose just protection, savages defied, 
And dearest hopes of house and home denied ; 
Around her hearth from hidden ambush springs 
The lurking foe, and death, with horror, brings. 

And this is loarl — and such in wrath makes 
haste 
To lay the white man's cot and village waste ; 
That deals in daggers poisoned, — coated o'er, — 
The fagot torch, and gluts on human gore. 

Against such crime the settlers strong unite ; 
350 



HANNAH DUSTON. 

In various ways they rally for the fight ; 
Some seek defence by force of gun and dogs ; 
Some take to garrisons, strong built of logs, 
And some in squads with weapons rude assail 
The foe, and fierce pursue the bidden trail. 
'Twas so at Newbury and at Bradford Town, 
Far further north and seaward further down, 
Along the vale where'er the white man dwelt, 
Still unprovoked the selfsame scourge was felt. 

And at old Haverhill, as " Mather '' *® tells, 

The flaring fagot burns where Duston dwells. 

That faithful father, frenzied to dismay, 

Hastens the flight of children far away. 

But not the infant ; that in wrath is slain. 

Its mother, captured, trudges in the train 

Of savages ; while in the clouds are shown 

The crackling ruins of an English home. 

351 



THE MERRIMAC. 

The tribes evade pursuit; they skirt the glen, 
Fast hastening through the fields away, and then 
Dense woods and sable night conceal the foe ; — 
There, couched on broken boughs in beds of snow, 
Repose they seek. Still mindful of the past, 
Her heart depressed, by sleep benumbed at last. 
There dreams that mother^ weary, sick, at rest, 
Of happy home^ — of father, children blest, — 
Of life's sweet joys profusely, kindly given, — 
Of angel visits from the throne of Heaven, — 
Of that true bliss religious life inspires. 
That wafts the soul above earth's frail desires, — 

Thus moved congenial thought hel* dreamy 

mind 

As moved that mighty forest in the wind, — 

Thus J on, — till twilight gray with breaking beam 

Now turns the tenor of a fleeting dream; 

352 



GHOSTS APPEAR T ) HER. 



When half aroused, before her vision aaze 



il^ 



Appear grim visages and fagot blaze ; — 
Tall sj)ectres, gaunt, whose garments drip with gore 
From that infanticide the day before, 
Wrought strange convulsions. Whence that fear- 
ful wail? 
Twas Hannah Duston/' waking for the trail. 

Her dark brown hair back on her shouldera 
spread, 
The frosts of night still on her garments laid. 
At sight of death, at sound of war-whoop cry. 
Avenging justice flashes in her eye ; 
Still, far beyond the cloud-capt tree-tops, shown. 
There gleamed in prospect yet another home ; 
Light paints a tinge upon her pallid brow, 
And up to God above she made a vow ; ^ 

For on the trees are marks of kindred blood, 

353 



THE MERRIMAC. 

And veDgeance just is whispered in the wood. 
Firm as the granite hills that brave the storm, 
That mother's will is fixed, and w^axes warm. 
Yet held to follow through the rugged way, 
-Kept equal step for many a weary day 
'.('Twas death to falter 'mid a savage throng) 
With Mary Neff'^ and boy;'^ all move along 
Through winding paths and tangled wildwood fens, 
Where prowded the wolf, and where the serpent 

dens, 
Declivities they wind, and ford the brooks 
That leap the mountain pass from granite rocks; 
Thence in dark thicket, then in sunlight gleam, 
And then in boats of birch on spacious stream, 
Up where old Contoocook unites in pride 
With Merrimac, profound in rolling tide ; 
There, on an island loild^ are captives shown 

The wigwam rude, an Indian's favored home. 

354 



TRIBES ASLEEP. 

And there on mats, around the camp-fire flame, 
Seated in group, they glut the slaughtered game, 
Which hunger sought; and night, now gathering in, 
Spreads her dark mantle o'er the woods within ; 
While from aflir, a gentle zephyr breeze 
Plays grateful music on the waving trees, 
Inviting rest from th' rambling drudge of day, 
That lulls the spirit from the world away. 

Still does that zephyr omens strange portend, 
A baleful bickering, some tragic end; 
Yet ne'er more safe, ne'er less by danger pressed, 
Than felt the drowsy foe reclined at rest : — 
And sleep sonorous, which fatigue inspires, 
Drowns deep the tribe in front of midnight fires. 

Then rose that mother, noiseless, moving near 

To Neff, breathes mandates startling to her ear; 

355 



THE MERRIMAC. 

To Samuel, too, her vent of vengeance went 
That fired his heart. They move with joint intent 
And signal stealth. Around the foe they felt, 
And drew a tomahawk each, from the belt, 
That touched his loins; and then erect they stand 
Lifting that bloody blade with heedful hand ; — 
Down on his guilty head, three times they strike. 
And three times three death follows, each alike. 

No groan nor sigh is heard, nor sign of woe ; 
But stiff and cold there lies the bloody foe 
'Neath clouds of night ; the wigwam embers fade, — 
And phantom-shadows stalk along the glade 
In depth of woods. The hills are hushed aloof, — 
No voice, save from the owl or hungry wolf, 
That clamors for his prey. 

Yet as these three, 
Once captive bound, now turn away, thus free^ 

356 




5«^ 



IN THE CANOE. 

Bright beaming stars, through parted clouds be- 
tween, 
True guides intent from Heaven's arch serene, 
Look down ; while truth, still valiant to prevail 
O'er wrong, and justice stern with even scale, 
Approve the deed ; and from that crimson glade, 
That dark, lone wigwam with unburied dead. 
Relieved, yet sad, they board a light canoe 
To dip the oar in hope of home, pursue 
Adown bright Merrimac in generous tide. 
That bears the craft on high through borders 

wide, — 
Thence paddling east, they gain a favored shore 
Above the fall, where troubled waters roar 
Below, — all safe at land. 

The day-star rose. 
Nature anon awakes from night's repose. 
Wild birds from far thick gathered in the trees 

357 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Warble sweet welcome on the morning breeze 
To strange adventurers ; while all that day 
Along the winding shore that leads the way 
To Haverhill, they thoughtful trudge and talk, 
What each had seen in life's bewildered walk, — 
Of childhood years beguiled with favorite toys, — 
Of love, — of home delights, — of buried joys. 

Thus did the women mutual converse hold, 
Till Samuel from mutest manner cold 
Bespoke them thus. ^' What mean these signs of 

pain ? 
These crimson marks that through my garments 

stain ? 
Did such from veins of Bampaco descend, 
Who gave me bow and arrow as a friend ? 
Truth undisguised these morning beams disclose, 
The sure avenger of his dying woes ! 

358 



MARY TO SAMUEL. 

Unwelcome tints ! they haunt my homeward way 

And at the threshold threatened to betray 

Me there. Shall I, long-lost, a mother's boy. 

Return and 2ja7igs impart instead of joy 

To such a heart ? No, — leave me here ; unknown 

To seek some hidden cave aloof from home ; 

Or send me, captive bound, to dwell again 

In tents, afar from lier wljo mourns me slain, — 

Whence crime concealed shall never vent a stain 

Nor rumor sad to blot a cherished name." 

He said, and there half halting stood 

Till Mary chides him in a different mood; — 

" I pray thee, Samuel, list to me awhile, — 
Misgivings sad attend bnt to beguile 
Thy youth. But list, — they move me to descry 
In wrong, if thou art guilty, so am I ; 

359 



rHE MERRIMAC. 

For at the war-whoop cry I could have fled, 
And shunned captivity, its horrors dread ; 
Yet would not jaeld to fate that infant dear, 
Nor fail my mistress kind through selfish fear. 
Alarmed, I seized it from the cradle there ; — 
That life, I begged a furied fiend to spare 
At risk of self Yet we no favor gain ; 
Our plea, our prayers most fervent, all in vain ! 
Impelled, from horrors which this heart had stung, 
To our liege mother and to thee I clung. 
In bonds a comrade held, a volunteer 
In all the dangers dread of such career. 
I've more to fear than tiiou, who, found alone, 
Wert forced at Worcester from parental home 
By brutal foes. Grim cruelties they sought. 
But on themselves relentless vengeance brought, 
In which an agent I indeed was one 
To bear a part in wrong, if wrong were done — 

360 



BENEATH A ROCK. 

If in the shed of blood a crime it be, 
To break from heil-born bondage to be free, 
Then is the fault in me much more than thee, 
Who had no choice of lot nor chance to flee. 
Yet have I faith from inward teachings given, 
Life's fre^edom gained is justified of Heaven ; 
Whose care paternal henceforth let us trust. 
As did our fathers, faithful from the first." 

Thus did they talk of self, of wrong and riglit, 

Meandering along till late at night 

Through narrow pathways, hindered now and then 

By tangled thicket dark, by brook and fen. 

Then next by range of hills, where lies at length 

A deep ravine, and there, through lack of strength, 

They turn aside beneath a shelving rock 

O'ergrown of spreading pines; thither to stop, 

Inclined to rest ; but fain would wakeful keep, 

361 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Yet, lost anon by force of needful sleep, 
Remain still there, till morn's refulgent raj 
Reflected on the wave of Nashua,^" 
Cast varied shadows in the branchy wood 
Around the group. 

There " mother Duston " stood 
Invoking favors from the throne of God 
To be bestowed in coming time for good 
For Mary Neff, for Samuel the same, 
Her pilgrim comrades, whence deliverance came— 

And briefly now, as ended then her prayer. 

Addressed them each in turn still waiting there 

In kindness thus : '^ Mary, to thee I owe 

Much more of debt than I can e'er bestow 

Of earth's reward. Thy truthfulness of heart, 

Thy generous constancy, thy guileless art, 

In trial proved, this thankful soul reveres; 

362 



MRS. DUSTOX 'JO SAMUEL. 

May blessings, Mary, crown thy future years j 
My home is thine, if home 1 see again, 
Devoutly favored thou shalt there remain. 

"And you, dear Samuel, valiant in the past, 

Honest in purpose, faithful to the last. 

No more should doubt. To savages belong 

The retribution of relentless wrong, 

And not to thee. Are not His dealings just 

Who Israel led? Shall we our God distrust? 

No. — Brood no more of doubts, most noble boy! 

Go, seek thy way to Worcester ; bear true joy 

To her who bore thee, and whose hallowed care 

Shall haste thee onward to her presence there. 

Still undisguised, in trutJt of God still led, 

Vv'ash not a stain from out thy garments red. 

Thy deeds but known shall welcome truth impart ; 

They'll prove the valor of a valiant heart. 

363 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Take yonder skiff; 'twill be no trespass done. 
For thee it drifted from a fate unknown. 
For thee my voice in thanks shall hence ascend ; 
Away ! and blessings on thy life attend." 

Still loath to part, yet harboring doubts no more, 
The lad, wide wafted on the westward shore, 
His beckoning paddle raised; with aprons, too. 
The women, answering, waved their last adieu. 

Thence turning, — tearful, meditating mild 
On distant " dear ones,^^ wandered through the wild. 
And Haverhill reached : — to whom, from governors 

even, 
Came generous gifts and thankful plaudits given. 

And there they rest. There upward points, 
to-day, 

364 



INDIAN WARS. 

A monument of stone from Duston's clay. 
Her noble deeds are held in high renown, 
Sacred like heirloom in that ancient town ; 
And long as Merrimac's bright waters glide 
Shall stand that mother's fame, still by its side. 

Such were the bickerings that brought the woes 
Of William's time ; which from the tribes arose 
Through sordid hate, that rankled in the place 
Of gospel trutJi, unknown to such a race. 

Enough of war. Yet others still there were 

Profuse in blood. 'Tis man's estate to err. 

Let pass Queen Anne's,^^ the troubles of her day, 

The craft of Jesuits, fruitful of dismay ; 

Nor need to note the French and Indian^^ strife, 

Nor trace the torch, the tomahawk, and knife 

Further. 'Tis now the olive-branch divine, 

365 



THE MERRIMAC. 

That springs from culture^s agency benign, 
With better deeds the record to embalm, 
Succeeds the war of Wolf against Montcalm. 

Now industry with thrift again moves on, 
Blest in the fruits of earth and arts anon, 
While Science fair her grateful tribute brings, 
And Charity, with healing in her wings. 
To faith and works. The colonies incline 
To independence, and in strength combine ; 
The tribes remote from civil life retire. 
Still wandering wild as wont through frail desire, 
Leave free the field to prosper many a year 
Unstained of war, in fruitful bounties fair. 

Th.en self-control begins to seek solution, 

A thirst for freedom threatens revolution. 

At first provoked by Britain's indiscretion, 

366 



THE REVOLUIION. 

Her power assumed, her flagrant legislation, 
And other wrongs, invasion comes at length, 
Resistance follows, — then a tug at strength 
Full seven years.^ On hostile fields, engaged, 
The armies gathered, and the battle raged. 

John Bull, in strength of scientific drill, 
Inflamed the ardor of untutored skill ; — 
The Yankee's fire-lock belched terrific flame. 
Against whose vengeance science was but vain;- 
And scythe and pitchfork wielded for the right 
The \.)etter weapons proved, in such a fight. 
True valor thus from pilgrim hearts of yore. 
Drove the brave Britons from Columbia's shore. 

Then through the vale, the Veteran we trace, 

Firm in deportment, faithful to his race, 

Down from the fields of conquest and renown, 

367 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Observed of all the host, the heroes of the town ; — 
Ben. Pierce^'* is there far seen amid the throng, 
With laurels crowned, they wind the way along ; — 
And there's old John" who, when* the field was dark, 
Would risk his life at risk of '' BloUy Stark:' 
These were our fathers, manly in their might 
From whom descended liberty and right. 

Where now they rest shall fragrant flowers grow; 
Their valiant deeds shall coming ages know ; 
And filial care shall cherish evermore. 
That noble tree they planted at our door. 

So wasteful revolution passed away 
Like darkest liour, foreshadowing brilliant day. 

Now smiling spring comes in from winter's blast 
To swell the seed ; and now the bloom is past ; 

368 



THE HARVEST. 

Productive seasons flit their hours away, 

Each warms the workl in bounty day by day, 

That hving things in nature may survive, 

That man and beast that come and go may thrive. 

From varied gifts subsistence we devise, 

And in due season gather in supplies. 

The husbandman hath care for weighty sheaves, 

Yet for a time untlireshed the grain he leaves ; 

While down the meadow, mowers all the way 

Swing swath on swath of verdant heavy hay, — 

Tagged there by Jolmny, tossing it in air, 

To make the crop while yet the field is fair ; 

The rakers next, — the teamster in his turn,. 

With rugged cart and oxen, comes anon, 

Each vies in strength, in manly ardor shown, 

To glean the glen, and bear the harvest home. 

But when dark clouds thick gather o'er the sky, 

They quit the fumid field to thresh the rye, 

369 



THE MERRIMAC. 

U[) to the barn, a <^ran(lsir() hiiilt of old, 
Where frightened swallows weary wings unfold 
Above. 'J'here face to i'ace within the door, 
In squads divided on the spacious lloor ; — 
The heavy sheaves lay head to head between, 
The swinging flails high in the air are seen, 
Blow follows blow, and strength to strength they vie, 
The bundles bouiidbirj rattle out the rye. 

As when two charioteers by Bacchus strong 
'Inflamed, now homeward lash their steeds along 
O'er yonder bridge, — swift whirl the wheels 

around 
]>y dint of trial, — and heavy hoofs rebound. 
So from the floor the farmer's noisy flail 
Reverberates aloud along the vale, — 

Then note^ when evening gathers o'er the plain^ 
370 



THE IIUbKIlNG. 

Now laid at length a heavy heap of (jraln; 
There to be winnowed, when old Uoreas blows, 
Then high the ('liair in clondy cnrrent (lows, 
And iVom the hfted measure .shaken seen, 
The grain in eonie i)ile falls pure and elean ; 
Then stored in bin, or cask, safe-held at will, 
Awaits the money-market or the mill. 

Meanwhile the field assumes a spiky form ; 
The time hath come to gather in the corn ; 
On hand the laborers, on hand the cart. 
The lads a,r(^ all aglee to take a part; 
For now ih.ey Icnoio when eve a[)proaehes near, 
'Twill bring that joyful husJdng of the year. 
All now one purj)ose faithfully fulfil, 
The rustling ears are hurried from the hill 
With ardent zeal ; and Hushed with hopeful joys 
Above the standing stocks both men and boys 

371 



THE MERRIMAC. 

High on their shoulders crowded baskets wield. 
The heavy harvest carted from the field, 
They pile in heaps within the grating door 
Throughout the spacious barn and kitchen fioor^ 
At eve. 

There then the guests all seated down, 
From every cottage home in all the town ; 
Some old^ some young, and some quite latelif born, 
Vie with each other husking out the corn; 
In social cliat and merry song they heep 
The golden ears fast flying from the heap; 
While startled oft, the seated crowd appear, 
At lucky swains, who find a crimsoned ear; 
For in such luck, 'tis never deemed amiss, 
To " go the round " and give the maids a kiss. 
The sprightly boys, wdth bending baskets borne, 
Remove the husks, and bear away the corn. 

372 



CHURCH GOING. 

Then comes the hour that gathers large supplies 
Of apple-dowflies ^® and of pumpkin-pies, 
Then bends the board with viands, fruit, and wine; — 
A.11 hail ! that gleeful hour, the olden time. 
Then when the week hath turned its toil away 
How mild and silent is the Sabbath-day I 

The modest maiden churchward as she goes, 
Proud in good looks and go-to-meeting clothes, 
Across the glen untouched of dust or dews, 
Bears in her hand her nice embroidered shoes; 
Her stockings, too, home knit, of purest white; -- 
Now near the temple, pulls them on aright ; 
Then in the precinct of that holy place. 
Where loud the parsou grave dispenses grace, 
Shines forth a beauty Jlounced ; there seated down 
The belle of all the beaux in Dracut Town. 

373 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Such neat conceptions and such care in dress, 

Deliberate judgments do not count the less. 

Go back and see ! A glance shall well suffice ; 

Our kind old mothers were the best of wives; — 

They formed our habits, shaped our very lives ; 

Their precepts prayerful, pointed to the skies, 

True joys most dear to early days alone, 

Ungrudged they sought, forgetful of their own. 

Men of my age I We hail that highland glee 

That cheered the homes, the hearts of you and me 

Of yore. 

Ye matrons, too, whose childhood prime 

Is merged in memories of the olden time, 

Call up that hour ! and bear me witness, too. 

Of what in early life you used to do, — 

How then on tip-toe cotton yarn you spun. 

How buzzed the band and how the spindle run, 

How moved the thread around the handy reel^ 

374 




WHEEL OF THE OLDEN TIME. 



MODERN INVENTION. 

How dear old mother whirled the linen wheel; 

While at her knee the prattling baby stands 

Provoking grandma with his little hands, 

To feel the forked distaff's flaxy curl, 

Or ferret out the curious whiz and whirl 

Of wheel and spool; — heedless o^ frown or fliers 

Or flax-comb keen. So fondly he admires. 

Th' enchanting scenes of childhood's joyful day 
We cherish still, though fled like flowers of May. 
In truth, ilike the habits had of yore. 
That linen wheel and loom are known no more. 

Anon advance the riper years of art, 
In which inventions take decisive part, 
Whence generous genius prosecutes the plan 
To overcome the drudgery of man ; 
Makes lifeless things, impelled at his control, 

375 



THE MERRIMAC. 

To do the duty of a living soul. 

Hence cotton-gins and spinning-jennies fine 

Outrun the wooden wheels of olden time. 

Hence power of steam, applied on sea and land, 

Expelling labor with a heavy hand. 

Work startling wonders, through mechanic skill, 

To move the car, the steamboat, or the mill. 

By industry that artful Lowell" led, 
By faith far-seeing which a Jackson^® had, 
The noisy flood, that o'er the breaker swells, 
Is turned aside to follow huge canals. 
Structures gigantic rise in prospect fair ; 
Cities that spread in beauty, here and there 
Adorn the valley. Manufactories filled 
With prompt machinery, as art had willed . 
Her work, in stately ranks now line the shore 
Of Merrimac. 

376 



MANUFACTURING. 

Now changed that torrent roar! 
Her fountains turned flow down in tranquil stream, 
And rolling round the graded hills, between, 
Through deep-laid channels, never washed before, 
Propel the ponderous wheel with mighty power ; — 

The wheels " within the luheel/' with one consent, 
Fly round and round, each on its duty sent ; 
Ten thousand spindles in their places spin. 
Ten tliousand spools fast wind their fibres in. 
Ten thousand shuttles shoot across the web 
Fed by the mules^^ slow back and forward led ; — 
Fast roll the fabrics from the rolhng beam, 
Complete in beauty, true in thread or seam ; 
The sheeting white, the listed broadcloths fine, 
Neat satinet, and carpets superfine ; 
The gaudy prints and blankets plainer made. 
For realms remote, for home or foreign trade. 

377 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Workshops with throngs the villes environ, 
Magic in power o'er wood, o'er steel and iron ; 
AUve in thought, and helping one another, 
Onward in handy art advancing further. 
Embracing all the works that man can do, 
Through labor fruitful and inventions new. 

The iron horse comes next to greet the day, 
A gift of Stephenson. Now on the w^ay, 
With charioteer half hid upon his back, 
Along where Merrimac had led the track 
Bears high his head. Held harnessed to a train, 
Fraught full of life, his energies aflame 
Loud whistling wild, and fierce impelled amain, 
He skirts the hills and snorts along the plain; — 

When in the shades of night you chance to hear 

The screaming whistle of that charioteer 

378 



THE TuLEoRAPH. 

Afar; — then note the belching smoke and Jlre; 
The train, impelled as if by Pluto's ire, 
Darts like a dragon, whizzing y winding past, 
As if from gates of hell let loose at last ; — 
Yet takes a charge to distant realms afar, 
And brings a kind return in peace or war, 
Shortens forever the tedious length of space, 
Burdens to bear for every clime and race. 

Not less the Telegraph, contrived of Morse, 
Makes labor less. Thrown out upon its course 
Full fraught with messages diffuses light. 
Nor time nor space is measured in its flight, — 
From State to State in every region hurled, 
Skirting the ocean-bed from world to world 
To bear the news; — to tender useful aid 
To all the traffic of a foreign trade; — 

To catch the culprit in his wayward flight, 

379 



THE MERRIMAC. 

And turn him back to common law and right. 
Tis thus that "letters to the lightnings" given, 
Flashed o'er the earth, reflect the light of heaven, 
Make common cause for good, with all mankind. 
So man progresses in the march of mind. 

Not less the fields in cultivation fine, 
Through deep discovery in progressive time, 
Advance. The patent plough, the scythe for mowing 
And all things else of art, that seem worth knowing 
Invented now o'ercome the farmer's toil. 
And make him monarch of this ancient soil. 

Old PENNy*.KOOK puts on a modern name ; 
Wamesit wild still onward does the same ; 
While Amoskeag, no more the red man's pride, 
Makes Manchester a city by her side. 

380 



PROGRESSION. 

Southward and seaward, ancient Newburyport, 
Of ships productive, strong in force and fort, 
With even hand fulfils a noble part 
In foreign commerce and the works of art. 

Lowell is queen ; — her history recalls 
The might and memories of Pawtucket Falls. 
Where Wonalancet dwelt in wigwam fair, 
Now dwells, in pride of mansion, Dr. Ayer, 
Whose nostrums pure and scientific skill, 
To cure the nations from a tide of ill, 
In doses daily measured by the tons, 
And cords of calendars in numerous tongues, 
Go forth. 

Here progress made in modern time. 
Where science, art, and enterprise combine. 
Tends but to tell how moves the world apace 

At will and wisdom of the Saxon race. 

381 



THE MEREIMAC. 

Lawrence and Nashua, the later growth 
Of cities chartered, proud in art and worth, 
Still thrive. Wide interspersed are town and vill 
At work in agriculture, shop, and mill ; 
HooKSETT and Suncook, once an Indian home, 
With ancient Salisbury, drive the busy loom. 

Pembroke and Bradford ! Institutions there 
Inspire the young in light of learning fair. 
Here, too, old Andover, in science grand, 
Gives gospel truth, glad-tidings to the land. 
And' Tyngsboro', Chelmsford ! wander where you 

will, 
The church and school are found, triumphant still. 

Northward is Franklin, where wild waters meet 
From mountain height and limpid lake to greet 

Our Merrimac; — the rustic region where 

382 



WEBSTER AND PARSONS. 

The noble Webster"'*' lived, — first breathed the air ; 
Schooled here in youth, in manhood he became 
A nation's boast, a statesman known to fame ; 
A fame still chanted from the mountain rills, 
Soft loliispered loild in these liis native hills. 
That name renowned shall live forever to he 
Revered with Whitefteld, slumbering near the sea. 

Alike shall Pilgrims inspiration draw 
At thought of Parsons,^' '^ Giant of the law ; " 
Whose life and learning found in book or plea, 
Learned by the learned extend beyond the sea; — 
His native Newbury strives in vain, alone. 
Against the world to hold him as her own. 

Here's Amesbury, too, far seen in learned lights, 

'Tis here a Whittier sings for Imman rights, 

Whose prayerful cadence, high is heard in heaven 

383 



THE MERRIMAC. 

Till God's full answer back to earth is given 
la favor kind ; — and yet through judgments just, 
We're taught in wisdom, and in whom to trust. 

Thus true it is, yet dread in deep disgrace — 
An oligarchy of a southern race, 
Born there of hell, and bred in slavery's school, 
'^Let loose their dogs of war " and sought to rule, 
And Sumpter falls. " To arms ! " the patriot cries ; — 
To arms provoked, the northern legions rise; — 
Nor age, nor caste, nor diiferent race, decline j , 
Alike in zeal, alike in faith combine 
In manly strength. From all the vales and hills, 
Out from mechanic shops, from noisy mills; 
Physicians even, divines, and legal bar 
Turn heroes brave and rally for the war; — 



As when a bull disturbs a native hive, 
384 



THE I.EBELLION. 

The bees ten thousand buzz and outward drive, 
Black in the air the vast battahons bring 
Their horrid weapons down, fierce on the wing, 
Upon the herd. So bent on war, alivG 
Legions of Yankees from the northern hive 
Leap forth aflame, in native strength and power, 
Wielding dread engines yet unknown to war; — 
Countless in cost, the preparation grand. 
For deadly conflicts on the sea or land; 
The monitor, in iron mail afloat ; — 
The monstrous mortar with a yawning throat;- — 
Vast shells and shot within, of strange invention ; — • 
Six hundred pounders, slugs of huge dimension, 
The new capt-rifle keen, the seven-shooter, 
Ten thousand tons of iron, lead, or pewter- 
Armed thus the cohorts tramp the trembling 

plain, 

385 



THE MERPJMAC. 

And crowd the mighty ships that plough the main, 
The conscious thunders, muttering from afar, 
Bemoan the horrors of impending war. 
Not less the bolt, oft breaking from the sky, 
Bespeaks dread vengeance, threatened from on high. 
Four years of darkness curtains all the plain, 
Four years of conflict on the land and main, 
Earth deep in sorrow for the thousands slain, 
Prove but the fruit, the penalty, and pain 
Of sin. Yet high o'er all tliat earth betides, 
Th' eternal Jove in majesty presides ; 
And in His mercy, sovereign will, and power, 
Forj^ives the crime and turns the tide of war. 
Now tumbling from her bulwarks, treason falls ; 
Loud ring the batteries, crashing in her walls, 
The sweeping navies press the rebel shore. 
From field to field the belching mortars roar. 
Yet doth dread carnage cease at Heaven's will ; 

386 



THE VICTORY. 

The curse '^ is but removed, and all is still. 
Great God of armies, we adore thy name 
For thy forgiveness of a nation's shame. 
Who, through the sea '' led Israel like a flock," 
Hath led this modern Israel to "the rock 
Beyond the flood." Oh, let us learn Thee still; 
Who bears thy image must obey thy will ! 
To whom but man should noble deeds belong, 
To learn the right divine, to spurn the ivrong ? 
What we would have of others, do to them, 
Alike the work of nations as of men. 

Of God-like man ! — if thus he e'er appears, 
'Tis when his truth outlives declining years. 
Who ventures all in strength of youth or age. 
In deeds divine his energies engage, 
Who with one hand sustains a falling brother, 
Yet grasps his country's flag firm in the other; 

387 



THE MERRIMAC. 

To flaunt its folds on freedom's towering height, 
In life's last hour still battles for the right ; 
'Tis such whose hand hath broken the galling fetter 
'Tis he whose life hath left the world the better, 
To him shall rise a fervid, loud acclaim; 
So beats a nation^s heart at Lincoln's name; 
By whose true teachings treason lost its sway ; — 
Then passed the good man from the world away. 
Still Johnson lives, — a Grant to lead the van, 
A Sherman bold, — a gallant Sheridan. 
Hence shall the nation social pride maintain, 
In sovereign States shall sovereign order reign. 
Hail glorious day ! 'Tis wisdom's plan ordained. 
Above the storm is Uberty proclaimed ; 
The sun of peace resplendent shines again ; 
O'er all the vale, it cheers th' abodes of men. 

Come back, Tisquantum ! if above ye dwell, 
388 





TISQUANTUM. 



TISQUAKTUM^S RETURN. 

Behold thy Merrimac, once loved so well; 
Thy race had traced it from creation's start; 
The white man turns it to the works of art; 
Survey its progress these three hundred years, 
Since up and down ye wandered here in tears 
Alone, bereaved. 

Call once again to view 
Thy thick-set forest wild, thy birch canoe, 
Where now thy kindred sleep as from the first, 
Where Pilgrim saints since mingled in the dust, 
Where now the ploughman trudges in his toil. 
Thoughtless of what still lies beneath the soil ; 
Oh ! let us know from what thy name inspires, — 
What is man's destiny, what Heaven requires 
More fully still. From realms eternal, fair, 
Tell us of hunting-ground, of glory there, 
Where blissful prospect Heaven shall fulfill, 
To generations onward, upioard still, — 

389 



THE MEREIMAC. 

While purest fountains flowing /ailing never 
Shall swell the tide of Merrimac forever, — 
Sure sign here given of God's enduring care, 
For what we see in heaven, in earth, or air. 

390 




NOTES. 



* The " Merrimac " takes its rise in the White Mountains ; is 
formed by the junction of the Pemigewaset and Winnipisseogee Riv- 
ers; is 110 miles long, and empties into the ocean near Newbiiry- 
port. It has been said, " No river in the world works so hard i>5 
the Merrimac." 

2 Sir Francis Drake visited New England ui 1586. 

3 The Pilgrims landed Dec. 22, 1620. 

* The Indian's mode of greeting was by a kiss. 

* The Treaty with King Massasoit was made March 22, 1621. 
8 Smoking was called drinking hx the natives. 

' Tisquantum, alias Squanto, died in Dec, 1622. 

8 Cattle were first brouglit into New England in 1624. 

^ Massasoit died, and Philip became king in 1670. 

1" Sassamon was murdered Jan. 29, 1674, 0. S. Two of the mur- 
derers, Tobias and Mattashinnamy, were executed June 8, 1674; the 
ether, Wampapaquam, was shot in jail. The indictment against them 
contained the following count : — 

" For that being accused, that they did with joynt consent vpon the 
29 of January anno 1674 att a place called Assowamset porid ivilfully 

391 



NOTE-; 

and of sett purpose znd of malice fore thought and hy force and armes 
murder John Sassamon another indian, hy laying violent hands on him 
and striking him, or twisting his necke^ vntil hee was dead; and to 
hyde and conceale this theire said murder att the tyme and place afore- 
said did cast his dead body through a hole of the ice into the said j^ond." 

" Philip was slaiii August 12, 1676. 

»2 WoNALAKCET, a SOU of Passacoiiaway, lived at Pawtucket Falls, 
and was Chief in the Merrimac Valley from 1660 to 1677. 

13 Pennakook is now Concord, N. H. 

14 Wamesit is Lowell, and was called the Great Neck. 

15 King William's war commenced in 1690 and ended in 1698. 

16 Cotton Mather, a clergyman, born Feb. 12, 1662, and died Feb. 
13, 1727, aged sixty-five. 

1' Hannah Duston and Mary Ncff were taken captives at Haver- 
hill, Mass., March 15, 1697. Assisted l)y Samuel Leonardson, they 
slew their captors on the 31t^t day of the same month. There were 
eight children in the Duston family. When Mrs. D. was taken, the 
infant was slain against a tree. The other children escaped by flight, 
assisted by the father. 

i« Mary Neff, the maid of Mrs. D., who, when the Duston house 
was set on fire, chose captivity rather than to forsake her mistress 
and the infant. 

'9 Samuel Leonardson was a boy who had been captured by the 

Indians prior to their attack upon the Duston house, who, with Mary 

Neff, assisted Mrs. D. in killing the Indians on the island in the 

Contoocook. 

392 



NOTES. 

^ Nashua, a river emptying into the Merrimac from the west at 
Nashua, N. H. 
2' Queen Anne's war of eleven years ended March 31, 1713. 

22 The French and Indian war of seven years ended May 18, 1763. 

23 The Revolution of seven years ended by definitive treaty Sept. 
30, 1783. 

24 Ben J. Pierce, a native of Chelmsford, Mass., was a captain in 
the Revolution, and was two years governor of New Hampshire, and 
died at Hillsboro' in 1839, aged eighty-one. 

25 John Stark, a major-general in the Revolution, was a native 
of Londonderry, N. H., and died at Manchester May 8, 1822, aged 
ninety-four. He rests on the second bank of the Merrimac, in that 
city. At Bennington, on rallying his men he is reported to have said, 
" We will gain the battle, or Molly Stark shall he a widoio to-night." 

26 Apple-dowdy, a huge pie, which was common in the rural dis- 
tricts, and known by that name. 

27 Francis C. Lowell was a native of Newburyport. He died in 
1817, aged thirty-eight. From him the city of Lowell took its name. 

28 Patrick T. Jackson was a native of Newburyport. He died 
Sept. 24, 1847, aged sixty-seven. 

29 Mule, an instrument for spinning thread for the web, worked by 
hand; called also mule-jenny. 

"^ DvA-NiEL Webster, a native of Salisbury, now Franklin, N. H., 
died at Marshfield, Mass., Oct. 24, 1852, aged seventy. 
31 Theophilus Parpons, a native of the Parish of Byfield in New- 

393 



NOTES. 

bury, Mass., was Chief-Justice of Massachusetts seven years, and died 
at Boston Oct. 30, 1813, aged sixty-four. 

''2 The Rebellion commenced April 12, 1861, at the stonning of 
Fort Sumpter, and ended at the suiTender of Lee, April 9, 1865 

Note. — For an extended view of what is related in the context, 
the reader is referred to the following interesting works : Drake's 
History of the Indians, Bouton's History of Concord, Potter's His- 
tory of Manchester, Fox's History of Dunstable, Cowley's History 
of Lowell, and Smith's History of Newburyport. 



394 



» g g ti^] 




MY MORNING RAY. 



[" Now it is high time to awake out of sleep." — Paul.] 



Beauteous beam from heaven brightly 
Gliding earthly once again ; 

Dancing o'er the tree-top lightly, 
Thence upon my mirror-pane, — 

There to paint the wild bird warbling 
Near a tiny treasured nest ; 

Or the roof-dove cooing, hobbling. 
Proud in thee triumphant blessed ! 

Thou art constant ever in season, 

Benefits benign to give ; 
Elemental strength and reason 

Countless myriads share and live. 
395 



MY MORNING RAT. 

Absent last night far off gleaming 
Gloriously in the heavens high ; 

Back to the spellbound nations dreaming, 
Waking, glad to greet thee nigh. 

Fed of fountains deep, unfailing. 

Godlike giving glorious ever ; 
Tripping onward, never trailing. 

Health and hope are thine forever. 

Rill and river fervent flowing, 
Made of vapory founts above, 

Moved of thee for aye bestowing 
Life's abounding beauty, love. 

Airy dreary heights eternal. 

Freed from winter's gloomy chain, 

Prompt bespeak thy presence vernal, 
Pourinsf down their rills agjain. 

Blest of thee, the dewdrop's blazings, 

Curious oft in bud or blade. 
Calling the bird to early praisings, 

Tinting the highlands, glen, and glade. 
396 



ITS MISSION. 

Who can count the leagues 3'ou've travelled 
Since creation deigned to dawn, 

Or the m3'steries thus unravelled, 
Or the paintings ye have drawn? 

Who can measure the moons ye've lighted, 

Planets burning in th}" sight. 
Or the hearts 3'ou've oft delighted 

Roused from realms of dreary night? 

Who can know the worlds uncounted, 
Whence ye came and whence ye went ; 

Spheres swift whirling high surmounted, 
How much love to each you've lent? 

Strange for aye to mental vision, 

Man benighted to prefer ; 
Hail, all hail, transcendent mission, 

God's momentous messenger! 
397 





GOD OVER ALL. 



The north winds murmured many a dreary might; 

Hard heaving frost befetters all the plain ; 
The woodland bud bespeaks a baleful blight, 

And winter cold in storm hath come aarain. 



Trembling the beasts are tethered to the stall, 
No more the swallow haunts her wonted home, 

The loon, the robin, the little wren, and all, 
Have quit the realm for regions far, unknown. 
398 



PROGRESSIVE. 



Bright da3's sweet spring and summer brouglit to view : 
Mild autumn came, yet fading^y departs : 

Our God is theirs the advancing seasons through, 
In nuptial faith to link their little hearts. 

4. 

Oh, what a world for mortals he hath made ! — 
A world supplied with every need for each : 

O'er all his work his lavished love is laid ; 

And the orbs on high are truthful, taught to teach. 

ft 

5. 

Silent the}^ sweep their winding courses round, 
Each world to turn obedient at command, 

And men and creatures everywhere are found 
For aye to work and wonder at his hand. 

6. 

Sweet life, the product of creation given, 
In germ, in growth, in gayet}', to move, 

Like as the planets in the vaulted heaven, 
Takes due direction from that lord of love. 
399 



GOD OVER ALL. 

7. 

Here Constancy in graceful garb is taught, 
Here Dut}' daily finds her wonted task, 

Here Beauty to her glowing tints is brought, 

Here Health discards the sluggard's morbid mask ; 

8. 
Here's Faith unswerved of sovereign favor fed, 

Fond Hope of heaven doth gather sweet supplies, 
Here Charit}^ to a life of love is led. 

And Truth inspired is tutored for the skies. 

9. 
In every cloud that clusters in the air. 

In every bird that flits the forest round, 
In every bush that blooms in beauty fair, 

Down from on high, are fruitful lessons found. 

10. 
Help us, great God, thy mighty works to view. 

Thy boundless power, thy guardian grace to scan! 
In visions brighter every da}^ renew 

Man's love to thee, man's fealty to man. 
400 



DANIEL AND HIS DOG. 



[At Northwood, N.H., given at its Centennial Sept. 6, 1873.] 



Next now I've come to tell a story, 
From trial clays of Whig and Tory, 
Whose deeds of valor, death, and glory 

Tradition truthful gathers ; 
Far out from hunting duck and plover, 
In spite of friendship, faith, or lover, 
The brave old ancestors came over 

To kill our fervent fathers. 



Among the victims of that battle 
That tried the metal of men and cattle, 
That made the bones of traitors rattle, 
And millions far to fear it ; 
401 



DANIEL AND HIS DOG. 

A Yankee, dauntless Daniel B., 
Had fought to make his countr}- free, 
At Bunker's Hill had lost one kiiee, 
However sad to hear it. 

3. 

In time he wore a wooden leg, 

As man}' were w'ont : 'twas like a peg ; 

Yet never a thought to fawn or beg 

Had moved the heart of Daniel. 
In vouth he'd married Molly B. ; 
In the bonds of love forever free, 
_A happier pair 3'ou'll never see : 

He kept a favorite spaniel. 

4 
'Twas prompt industry Daniel sought, 
'Twas love and music Molly brought ; 
Full competence they always wrought, 

Though the days were hard and haz}' ; 
At length disease unfettered came, 
When doctors' nostrums proved in vain, 
Inflicting morbid mental pain : 

It made old Daniel crazy. 
402 



THEY WANDER. 
5. 

Strange then he wandered to and fro, 

Uncertain where to stay or go, 

Yet harmless trudged with murmurings low. 

Returning oft to his Molly ; 
Still followed that faithful spaniel with him, 
Along the highway loitering living : 
Transcendent love a dog could give him, 

And yet how melancholy ! 

6. 

We children thought it curious cunning. 
To see that strange old soldier coming ; 
Wild on dread war his mind was running, 

Wliile all the way he muttered ; 
True then the maniac made us gi'in. 
However great the fault or sin. 
The breeches and that beaver brim 

Our fearful spirits fluttered. 
403 



DANIEL AND HIS DOG. 



AT CHURCH. 



One sabbath morn we sat us down, 
'Twas in the schoolhouse of the town : 
To heed the pra3^ers of Deacon Drown, 

Devout the sahits had met. 
At length old Daniel hobbled in ; 
His dog assailed began to grin 
With snap and snarl and grip to win 

Our deacon's dog beset. 



"Bite him, ye hero," Daniel said; 
"Bite him, I say it, — bite 'em dead:" 
Loud, loud the}^ 3'elled : heels over head 

They whirled ; none, none could part 'em. 
Up from his pra3'er the deacon tried 
To drive the dogs, his cane applied ; 
^i ril—ril risk Watch!'' old Daniel cried ; 

But never a blow could start 'em. 
404 



THE MORAL. 

9. 

'Tis a moral good for me or you, 
111 manners found creation through 
Will never for dogs or deacons do, 

Prone oft alike rapacious ; 
Yet find 3'ou will in all 3^our lives, 
Where love from love its love derives, 
As ever it ought with men and wives, 

Frail man is made sagacious. 

10. 
That hero then they led away, 
No more to break that sabbath day. 
Still madly muttering all the way, 

'-'■ Bite Mm! I say it^ — bite Jilm!'' 
What though such ire no saint could trammel? 
That dog was no ill-natured spaniel : 
Forever true to follow Daniel, 

He capered to delight him. 

11. 
Down through those years that held the twain, 
Old age advancing hateful came, 

405 



DANIEL AND HIS DOG. 

When lingering less in life became 

The quirk, the prank, and dashes ; 
Then, when old Daniel sought the clay 
Made free by the braves on the battle-day, 
His grave that spaniel kept for aye ; 
Dead, there he fell to ashes. 
406 




JERUSALEM, 



1. 

Ancient, sacred, far-off cit}', 

Clad in heaven's Inrid light, 
Bj'gone years of love and pity 

Live to linger in th^- sight. 
2. 
Faith from thee springs forth victorious. 

Love and holiness divine ; 
Peace, sweet peace, forever glorious, 

Generations call it thine ! 

3. 
Thou hast made historic pages 
Tragic, tranquil to the soul ; 
And ye've taught the eternal ages 
Inspiration as they roll. 
407 



JERUSALEM. 
4 

Many a day through trial turning, 
Many a night in dream}^ trance, 

Up thy narrow pathways yearning, 
True, yet tardy to advance ! 



Firm, eternal, statel}' towers, 
Wall and temple far and nigh ! 

Strong in spite of earthly powers. 
Gleaming glorious 'neath the sky! 



Long we've loved thy sacred story. 

Proud to stand where tribes have trod ; 

Glad to greet thee in thy glory, 
Ancient dwelling-place of God ! 

408 





THE YEARS OF POCOMTUCK. 



[Given at the Centennial Celebration at Leverett, Mass., near the Pocom- 
tuck Valley, Sept. 10, 1874.] 



Dear Leverett, rural, linked in love 
To vale and hill-top, giade and grove, 
Your hearts below and hearts above 

We've come to greet. 
We bring with mingled jo}' and tears 
The faith of fervent tragic 3'ears, — 
To thee in love true volunteers, 

Communion sweet. 
Deep moved we're minded now, 3'ou know, 
Of a long one hundred years ago. 
409 



''THE YEARS OF POCOMTUCK. 
2. 

To-day Pocomtuck skirts the plain, 
Far greener grow y'r fields again, 
And mightier waters move amain 

From lake and brook ; 
Old Toby lifts his lofty brow, 
Bespeaking many a nobler vow, 
And beast and bird are happier now 

In love and look ; 
For true they seem to see and know 
That long one hundred years ago. 

3. 

The wild-bird warbled on the hill, 
The wren and robin near the mill, 
Far down the vale sweet whippoorwill 

With a fervent la}' ; 
In loftier strain of note and song. 
They've told the story all along 
Of the coming great centennial throng. 

Vast here to-day ! 
For they had care as we, you know. 
More than one hundred years ago. 
410 



TIDE OF TIME. 
4. 

At the garden-gate, sweet songster, mothers^ 
Inspiring meek "Memorial" Brothers, 
Mild matrons too, and all the others, 

Oft many a day. 
Suggesting how the 3'ears had run, 
How generations, sire and son. 
And daughters dear, since the world begun, 

Had gone away, — 
Deigned then to say a word or so 
Of the long one hundred years ago. 

ADVENTURERS. 
5. 

Now first of all the red man trace ; 
And then a pious Pilgrim race. 
Proud Puritans who grew in grace, 

'Mid conflicts fell ; 
Next valiant how old Captain Slarrow, 
In spite of Indian bow and arrow. 
With Saxon backbone full of marrow, 

Dared here to dwell ; 
411 



''the years of pocomtuck.'^ 

Far back he lived ; came first, you know, 
Be3^ond one hundred 3'ears ago. 

6. 

Then Williams, Wright, and Sawyer came, 
Grave clergymen of noble fame, 
Colburn and Reynolds, true the same, 

In turn were here ; 
Gone now the shepherd, gone the flock, 
Descendants proud of the Pilgrim Rock ! 
God save to us that ancient stock', 

Entire and clear ! 
Long did they live to see and know 
That hard one hundred 3'ears ago. 

THE CABIN. 

7. 
Your first old cot, as good as new. 
From Slarrow fell to Montague ; 
Who made, tormented, much ado 
At law and lev}' : 
412 



FIRST SETTLER. 

By precept prompt yon know the facts, 
The major's pig had paid the tax; * 
Yet retribution's battle-axe 

Fell hard and heavy 
On Church and State ; blow followed blow, 
In that one hundred years ago. 

8. 

Sad now, that cot of wood and clay, 
Time-worn, hath crumbled to decay. 
As all things earthly on the way, 

Doomed, disappear ! 
We ponder o'er its ancient site 
By sun, or moon or stars at night. 
And bygone j-ears bring back to light 

Fond memories dear ! 
For there was weal as well as woe. 
More than one hundred years ago. 

WAR. 

0. 
Turn now, we will, to earlier years, 
Beyond the day of pioneers, 

* Slarrow's pig had been taken to pay a tax to the minister. 
413 



"the years of pocomtuck. 

To scan Pocomtuck 'neath the spheres, 

• A maz}^ wild ! 
Dark then the branchy giant gi'owth, 
Native in all its weal and worth, 
With bud and wild-flower, breaking forth 
In beauty mild. 

10. 

Dread, next it rang with wails of war ; 

Old Ocean bellowed from afar, 

And night with a dim, beclouded star 

Hung o'er the world. 
Obtruding dearth and death presaged ; 
While flagrant foe on foe engaged ; 
Through fire and blood the battle raged. 

Banners unfurled ! 

11. 

Along that rapturous range of hills, 
Far up amid the mountain rills. 
And down the vale, pale terror fills 
The souls of men. 
414 



INDIAN ONSETS. 

At night, the flaring fagot blazed ; 
At morn the crimsoned cry was raised ; 
Fond mothers hugged their babes amazed, 
Distracted then ! 

12. 

True so it was from Philip's time, 

From old Mount Plope through the Nipmuck * line, 

Dread consternation, sad, sublime 

An hundred years ! 
God give us love, true faith, and grace, 
To right the wrongs of a Saxon race, 
"Which the far-off tribes, dismembered, trace 

To us in tears ! 

13. 
But culture since hath gladdened the soil. 
True faith and works have no recoil ; 
Kind Heaven hath crowned a nation's toil 

With a rich increase. 
Huge wrongs have wrought a revolution, 
Rebellion dire, and retribution ; 

* The Nipmuck countiy included all the territory between the Merrimack 
and Connecticut Rivers to the White Mountains. 

415 



"THE YEARS OF POCOMTUCK. 

Yet, thanks to God for absolution, 
We thrive in peace. 

OUR MANNERS. 
14. 

But there's a change the present day : 
The ' ' better halves ' ' must have their way ; 
And we frail fathers ought to obey 

Their brave behest : 
Prompt now, ^-e husbandmen of earth, 
Turn wide aside, and give 'em berth ; 
For all the world is of little worth 

If they're oppressed. 

15. 

Yet woe the day to woman, when 
Her love is lost to the souls of men, 
And mine and tliine are common then 

To a mad communion ! 
Then shall the man to brute be changed : 
The loveliest links shall be estranged ; 
The social system all deranged 

To a dire disunion. 
416 



MATERNAL LOVE. 

16. 
But now we hail, we love her heart, 
In durance brave, her guileless art ; 
Her truth divine shall ne'er depart 

To the latest breath ; 
Still shall her love glow brighter, best, 
When most b}' dearth or danger pressed ; 
Her tranquil care shall make it blest. 

Our bed of death. 

17. 
Sweet social life, through all its care, 
Leaders there must be ever}- where, 
O'er all the way to avoid the snare. 

Onward to dut}' ! 
'Twas so of yore, in winter's storm. 
Or in life's spring da}', night or morn, 
The souls of mothers ahvays warm, 

Lovely in beauty ! 

ANGELIC VOICES. 

18. 

I hear their whisperings ^long and loud ; 
I scan them in the purpled cloud, 
417 



" THE YEARS OF POCOMTUCK. 

In garb of angels, pure and proud, 

Far looking down : 
I hail that vast colonial throng, 
That cheered this valle}' all along, 
And then went up through love and song 

From Leverett town. 

19. 
They're there to-da}^, our pioneers, 
Amidst the whirling, beauteous spheres : 
The}' love us well : the}' have no tears. 

The}' beckon above ! 
Hail, hail that heavenward glorious day, 
'That next one hundred years away ! 
Then blest of God, when we as they 

Shall live and love ! 
418 





DEDICATION. 



[Inscribed to the Eliot Cliurch at tlie dedication of its house of worship, which 
stands on the same spot in Wamesit (Lowell), where Eliot, the apostle, 
preached to the Indians. 



1. 

Great God! this temple have we reared, 
Garnished of sovereign favors given ; 

Thy glory here shall be revered, 

Transcendent praises thine in heaven. 



Here, where the tribes oft paid a vow 
When Eliot preached long days of yore, 

We bring devout oblations now : 
Thy long forbearance VnC adore. 
419 



DEDICATION. 
3. 

A pilgrim people here shall dwell, 
In brotherhood beloved, benign ; 

And many a heart shall learn and tell 
Of love and truth and faith divine. 

4. 
Sin, oft rebuked of thee and thine, 

Shall 3'ield to progress pure, serene, 
And Zion here shall rise and shine 

In robes of righteousness supreme. 

5. 
Contrition true shall hither bring 

Pathetic praise and plaintive prayer, 
And sweet redemption oft shall wing 

Away on high to mansions there. 

6. 
Guide us, O God ! in all we do ; 

Bring wayward wandering ways to light ; 
Inspire us on our journey through ; 
Thy lovely face we'll keep in sight. 
420 




OUR NATIVE HOME. 



Dear, dear to me my native cot, 
Framed of the father in the wold ; 

My fond old mother marked the lot, 
They took it from the tril^es of old ; 

Sought out the sunbeam, braved the storm 

Of winter wild, of summer warm. 



The giant growth of a thousand years, 
The sturdy oak, the clambering vine, 

Fell at the foot of pioneers, 

That greeted then that olden time ; 

Frail, frail the bluff, the barrier bold, 

In sight of the valiant hearts of old ! 
421 



OUR NATIVE HOME. 

3. 

The war-whoop wild had waned away, 
Strong garrisons stood tenantless ; 

Still did the prowling beast of prey 
Bestir a boundless wilderness ; 

For then he felt a pang, a pain, 

At death and danger, kindred slain. 

4. 
Next then to toil a new world yields, 

The wheel to whirl at early morn ; 
Wealth wings her way from furrowed fields. 

And Johnny thrives on a cake of corn. 
Down all the way 'twas even so, 
Through that primeval long ago. 

5. 
Next then anon advancing years 

Brought valiant sons and daughters . many 
Thc}^ vowed and vied, brave volunteers, 

To save the sire a needful penny ; 
Nor dunce nor drone in field or fen 
Noted or known were nurtured then. 
422 



ITS INSPIRATIONS. 
6. 

Old cot, I gaze upon ye now, — 

Oft-changing place to look thee o'er ; 

We seem to see the floweret, how 
It budded blooming at thy door ; 

Imparted love to high and low, 

Those man}', many 3'ears ago. 

7. 
Ye tell me of paternal toil. 

That fenced the field in fervent care ; 
Brought golden harvests from the soil, 

Through constant culture generous, fair. 
Brave, kindl}' spirits, filial, dear, 
Associations linger here. 



Still here to heed the hand, the heart, 
That fed the flame of infant years, 

Inspiring every aim and art 

To a life of labor, joy, and tears ; 

That bright illumed the path I've trod 

In truth to manhood, — faith in God. 
42S 



OUR NATIVE HOME. 
9. 

I look me round ; that willow- tree, 
Of time and tempest torn and broken, 

The b3'gone jears it brings to me, 
Impressing what the fates betoken, — 

Life's brief career, the rise, the fall ; 

Breathing a song, a sigh for all. 

10. 
Old tree, once lofty, bright, and green. 

Thee then the wild-bird merry blessed. 
Inspired her yqung thy boughs between, 

And the play-boy oft thy branches pressed. 
Yet tragic now the sigh, the moan. 
The bo}^ no more, the wild-bird flown. 

11. 
Note next the brier}^ lane, forlorn, 

The cow-path old of earliest pride, 
Where oft I followed the herds at morn, 

Or hied them home at eventide. 
The partridge wild di'ummed in the woods, 
The flails were noisy, and the floods. 
424 



SACRED, SOUGHT. 
12. 

Bright fields far back m}' visions fill ; 

The flower J glen, the pasture green ; 
The bleating flock hangs on the hill, 

And the herds recline the lea serene. 
Sweet now as then each sight or sound, 
Leering the wayward world around. 

13. 
Vast Nature noble, ever beauteous ! 

Each hallowed spot is mine once more ; 
Translated hence, yet ever duteous, 
I'll turn to greet thee as of yore ; 
For a^^e to know th}' daj's divine. 
That halcyon home, my bo3iiood prime. 
425 




HOW SWEET THE HOUR I 



1. 

How sweet the hour we consecrate 

To a purpose true divine ; 
Supernal grace to celebrate 

In reverential rh^me ! 

Look clown, O Father, while we sing, 
With kind approvals given ; 

Devout hosannas will we bring, 
A song of faith and heaven. 

3. 
Let thankful choral throngs unite 

In praises long and loud ; 
Give inspiration, gospel light, 

And cast away the cloud. 



OUR PILGRIMAGE. 
4. 

Light touch the trembling organ's note 

To fill the tune with love ; 
To thee each humble heart devote, 

And bear our souls above. 

5. 

'Tis through the night of tragic years 
The pilgrim plods his vi&y : 

Far up from mingled joy and tears 
He drinks the dawn of day. 

427 





THE OLD ELM. 



[Given at the advent of the first horse-cars into Centralville in 1874.] 



My brethren all of the Spindle City, 
You crave my music, seldom witty, 
Perchance a sermon, song, or ditt}^, 

Me much inthralling ; 
To serve 3'our God and fellow-man, 
What loftier, nobler, better plan ? 
Brave well the world as best jou. can, 

At duteous calling. 

Unfettered, free from fret or fragor. 
At constant care, supernal labor, 
You'll bring to faith, to friend or neighbor, 
A glorious glee. 
428 



ITS VISIONS. 



From o'er the way you've rattled along, 
With many a car a gallant throng ; 
Lured, while you list, I'll bring a song. 



THE BRADLEY TREE. 



Monarch of all the woods around, 
Far waving o'er the grateful ground, 
Where shall thy prototype be found. 

In might or magic? 
Imperial, spacious, noble form, 
Inured to climate cold or warm, 
Ye've braved full many a howling storm, 

Terrific, traffic ! 



Ye've towered to the midnight starry sky, 
You've scanned the da} break from on high, 
Ye've seen the Indian arrows fly, 
Long days of yore. 



THE OLD ELM. 

The wild wolf tribute nightly paid ; 
The screech-owl lingered in thy shade ; 
Each to a plan had progress made, 
For love and lore. 

3. 

Unnumbered nestlings of the spring, 
Taught day by day to wing and sing. 
Oft hither turned, were wont to bring 

A song to thee. 
Sweet robin carolled from above, 
The bobolink, the wren, the dove, 
Ten thousand wild birds brought their love, 

Oblations free. 

4. 
The Indian mother, you've seen her how 
She swung her baby on the bough ; 
And swain and maiden brought a vow 

For many a jear. 
Old tree, I hail thee, tempest riven, 
Whose life's calm sunshine God had given, 
And on whose dust the dews of heaven 

Have dropped a tear. 
430 



SOUGHT OF THE TRIBES. 

5. 

True do 3^6 tell another tale, 

Of war and blood along the vale ; 

How oft you've heard the fearful wail 

Of the man}' distressed ; 
Bleak north winds heaved their sighs again, 
At Varnham fated, vanquished, slain ; 
While far adown the woodland plain 

The tribes are pressed. 

6. 

Wild roaming oft o'er hill and dell, 
Each tribe, in truth, had loved thee well, 
Th}' shades beneath, thou canst but tell 

How many were blessed. 
Yet tearful oft while down they drew 
To a shad}'^ shore a birch canoe, 
Consigning here as wont to do 

Their dead at rest. 

Next did the white man bring the plough, 
Upturned the glebe beneath thy bough. 
And men and maids were moved as now 
Of the gracious Giver. 
431 



THE OLD ELM. 

Fair then prolific fields abound, 
Productions gladdened all the ground, 
And man}^ a mansion girts thee round, 
High on the river. 

8. 
Then, then 3^e saw the busy throng 
At husbandry these vales along. 
Through science, art, and labor strong, 

To gain a penny. 
How waters wild from the mountain rill, 
To floods that move the mighty mill, 
Ten thousand spools and spindles fill, 

Fine fabrics many. 

9. 
All these and more, old tree, j^ou'd seen 
In life's long varied years serene, 
Till the fates foreboding intervene, 

Dread clouds o'ercast: 
Wild now tempestuous waters dash, 
'Mid thunders, mutterings, fire and flash, 
Old Neptune roared, and with a crash 

Ye fell at last. 
432 



FATED, FALLEN. 
10. 

Earth, troubled, veiled her face awhile, 
And strong men stubborn to beguile, 
With sacred rites at a funeral pile, 

Bend, bend forlorn. 
Thus, overwhelmed of storm and blast, 
Th}^ statel}', proud proportions vast, 
Laid low in dust, consigned at last 

To a fated form. 



11. 

'Twas so of life in the towering tree, 
The same is life with 3 ou and me : 
We tower, we thrive, we flourish free, 

Mid storms of heaven. 
Yet, 3^et how soon its train to-daj^ 
Shall take a trip another way ! — 
Driven down of gales, shall cast its clay 

To the tempest riven. 



433 



THE OLD ELM. 

Thus, then, my brother, such is life, 
And such its progress, rightful rife, 
Through all its stages, strength, and strife, 

We work at will. 
Proud in the purpose of to-day, 
With tramping steeds first on the way 
You've made the car- wheel whirl and play 

To Central ville. 

All hail ! majestic mayor men, 
To donors generous many we ken, 
Oblations prompt pertain to them. 

In mass unmeasured. 
We bring you thanks for a noble deed, 
We bring ye love as a brother's need, 
Both you and 30urs true, true indeed, 

Our hearts have treasured. 
434 



MAY-DAY. 



Morning breaking brightly beauteous 
Moves the world to hope and health ; 

Making glad its mj'riads duteous. 
Bringing bounteous weal and wealth. 

Chorus: Sing^ oJi, sing, for this is May Day! 
Life is brief yet bright at dawn; 
Hearts high beating, making headway. 
Bearing balmy Jiowers along. 



Teacher: Children whom from afar advancing, 
Banded wandering o'er the way, 
Bring a garland bright, entrancing. 
Grateful greeting gala-day. 
435 



MAY DAY. 

3. 

Noisy all at flippant chatting, 

High in hope, and full of glee ; 
Proud in all 3'our pathway's patting, 

Far in forest, lawn, or lea. 
4. 
Oh, how like the song-bird swinging 

'Bove the branch}-, shady bower, 
Heart and voices sweetly bringing 

Love and praise to the golden hour! 
Chorus : Sing^ oh, sing, &c. 

Nature. 

5. 
Dear old dame, adorned in beauty, 

Bright in green her vast domain, 
Prompt to true maternal duty. 

Paints her fields of flowers again. 
6. 
Once again she pours bright waters 

From the frost}- mount afar ; 
Noisy little sons and daughters 

Leaping, glittering like a star. 



NATURE AT WORK. 

7. 
Once again she moves the fishes, 

Fed of ocean, lake, and river; 
Nice to fill your daily dishes, 

Generous, gentle, gracious giver! 

8. 

Once again she sends her zephyrs, 

Moving many a highland tree ; 
Tuning tranquil, varied vespers. 

Soft they languish love to thee. 
9. 
Once again she calls her songsters 

From the far-off sunny clime ; 
Parent bird and tranquil youngsters. 

Kind connubial hearts divine. 
Chorus : jSing, oh, sing, &c. 

The Inquiry. 

10. 

Tell me now, oh ! tell me whither, 
Little wanderers, j'ou have been ; 

O'er the landscape linked together. 
Rambling thither what you've seen. 

437 



MAT DAY. 
11. 

What beguiled your waj'ward walking, 
Wanton wild with one another? 

All that's worthy of jour talking, 
All about that dear old mother? 

The Reply. 

12. 

Fred: We have climbed the hill-top shady, 

Strolled in verdant valleys wide, 

Each inspired of lad or lady. 

Cheerful chattering side b}^ side. 

13. 
And we've seen her image flashing 

From the dewdrop green and glorious ; 
In the fountain sweeping, dashing, 

Vast in volume, clear in chorus. 

14. 

Millie: Yes, we've heard the lambkin bleating 
High upon yon sunny side ; 
Flocked in kind, paternal keeping, 
Where no lurking foes betide. 
438 



SIGHT SEEING. 

15. 
Guy: Beauteous there we saw the robin 
Making low his favored nest ; 
While the ja}' on high was bobbing, 
Blue in checkered jacket di'essed. 

16. 
Susie: Next we saw ni}' prett}' sparrow 
In the blooming orchard green ; 
Ne'er to fear the fatal arrow, 
Listening to his little queen. 

17. 
Sadie: Far we heard the partridge drumming, 
Prompt at dawn of duty led ; 
And the bee was busy humming. 
Brave above a balmy bed. 



18. 
Bertie: Then we saw the curious squirrel 
Chippering to his home awa}' ; 
Far from conflict, ne'er to quarrel. 
Cosej" 'neath his native cla}'. 
439 



MAY DAT. 

19. 

Grace: All were we of joy elated 

At the sight of chick-a-ree, 
At the blue-bird merr}' mated, 
Bobolincon, chick-a-dee-dee ; 

20. 

At the fishes in the fountain, 
At the warbler on the willow, 

At the rabbit 'neath the mountain, 
At the sea-bird from the billow. 

21. 
Lotta: Then far distant we saw coming 

Flocks migrating, pledged in love. 
Talking onward, co}' and cunning. 
Sweeping, trailing far above. 

Chorus : Sing^ oJi^ swg, &c. 

22. 

Teacher: Gay you've sought j^on silvery waters. 

Glen, the glade, and waving wild-wood ; 
Nature loves her sons and daughters, 
Blest in cheerful hours of childhood. 
440 



THE CORONATION. 
23. 

'Tis for thee she feeds her posies, 
Paints the vernal valle}' green ; 

Fragrant fills ambrosial roses, 

Proud to adorn a May-day queen. 

24. 
Choose 3'ou now 3'our favored stations, 

Clad with garlands, at the call ; 
Bring your beauteous, best oblations ; 

Crown your queen I — in chorus all : 

Chorus: Sing^ oli^ sing, for tliis is May Day ! 
Life is briefs yet bright at daivn; 
Hearts Jiigh beating, makirig headway^ 
Bring your balmy flowers along. 
441 





IMPROMPTU, 



[Returned, on the receipt of a casket of wine, and large clusters of Ixot- 
liouse grapes.] 



Ten thousand thanks to Dr. A^-er! 

For the wine was reel, and the grapes are fair, 

And the heart is warm in tender care 

For me and mine : 
Live long to heal the human race, 
All over the world, in every place ; 
Vast benedictions, sovereign grace, 

To thee and thine ! 

R. B. C. 

Oct. 20, 1873. 

442 



A MONTH AMONG THE TOMBS. 



[searching for the record.*] 



ARGUMENT. 

1. Oblivion. —2. The Historian's Solicitation. — 3. Tlie Lady's Response.— 
4. — Sordid Indifference, its Penalty. —5. Faith with Works, its Re- 
wards.— 6. Angelic Apparitions. — 7. Their Identification. — 8. Maggie's 
Tree. — 9. Time and its Work. — 10. In a Cloud They come. — 11. The 
Night Scene. — 12. Day-dawn, and the Departure. 

OBLIVION. 

O THOU unfettered, unforbidden foe 

To man's ambition, fortitude, or fame ! 
Nor scheme, nor plan, nor purpose here below, 

But finds in thee the bugbear and the bane. 

Disguised in stealth, ye creep creation o'er, 
'Neath shades of night beclouding all the wa}- 

Where generations vast advanced of 3'ore, 
And Earth's renown lies buried, lost for aye. 

* This poem was at first printed in an appendix to the History of Barn- 
^tead, — was intended as a tribute to a lady who had generously obtained, 
to the use of the author, copies of tlie monumental inscriptions from the 
numerous graveyards of that spacious town. 

443 



A MONTH AMONG THE TOMBS. 

Now ill the hills I stand beneath the gloom 
That bilges pendent o'er a bleak}^ brow, 

To cast a flower on man}^ a crumbling tomb, 
For hearts heroic, half forgotten now. 



SOLICITATION. 

Give me thine aid, ye gods of early date, 
Or native nymph, or spirit from above ; 

Snatch from the fangs of unrelenting fate 
The fading memories of paternal love ! 

While thus I stood, beseeching and besought, 
With harp unstrung in tuneless silence laid, 

A gallant lad}' to ni}' vision brought 

The graveyard gates of Barnstead's honored dead. 



RESPONSE AND THE ADVANCE. 

"Sing now," said she, ''the deeds of other daj's ; 

Wake once agahi Ih}' tired strings anew ; 
Our fathers old, their rude and rustic ways, 

Their frugal, faithful pilgrimage, review." 
4-44 



THE ADVANCE. 

Then straight awa}' while dawn in lovely light 
Doth come to gild the purple hills with gold ; 

While mild October from the forest bright 

Displaj's proud colorings, beauteous to behold, — 

She turns ; meandering where departing night 
Hath spread the vales in pathless pearly dews ; 

And where old Time had cast his baleful blight 
In days of yore, sweet garlands there she strews. 

Down thence afar, in all the varied fields, 
In valley low, in upland fresh and fair. 

Wild at her feet the nodding floweret yields 
Obeisance proudly to her presence there, — 

Where long ago, advancing sad and slowl}', 
Processions came, dark, winding on the way, 

From plaintive praj^er, and exhortation holy, 
They bore their kindred tenderly away. 

Deep there she dwells, where now the sainted dead, 
'Neath mossj- mound, or sod with briers set. 

In pent-up lanes or careful corners laid. 

Long, tardy years in loneliness have slept, — 
445 



A MONTH AMONG THE TOMBS. 

To trace rude records, latent, there beclouded, 
A line of love, a stanza quaint, sublime. 

Or some old text which Nature hath enshrouded 
Beneath the tears of overwhelming Time. 

Full forty da3's her faithful fingers gather 
From granite gray, or sable slab of old, 

In rude old rhymes, yet sentimental rather, 
The last sad tale which fond affection told, 

Up from the soul when fettered in affliction, 
Beneath a cloud high from the heavens hung ; 

Nor prayer, nor faith, nor bounteous benediction, 
Assuaged the grief that clustered where it clung. 

Here man}' a neighbor curious at the call, 
Holding a helping hand, came gathered near ; 

And priest and people, draped in homespun, all 
Brought regal honors to a rugged bier. 

Here stood a father deep in sorrow, mild, 
A mother bending o'er a manly boy, 

A lonely daughter led a little child, 
And left a tear to a true departed jo}'. 



THE BURIAL. 

Here stood a soldier, strong in revolution, 

Whose heart it failed not, firm in battle, bi'ave, 

For freedom fair, for God and constitution. 
Valiant for aye, — it faltered at the grave. 

O God that gives ns s^^mpathetic tears. 

That fosters love to the kingdoms all around ! 

Why should the Page of patriotic years 
Be lost, forgotten, never to be found? 

Why like the deeds of distant boundless ages, 

While rambling red men wandered through the wold, 

Whose only record lingers on the pages 

Left brief from hearsay of the English old, — 

Should that be lost? Forgotten, shall they vanish. 
Primeval deeds of brave New-England daj's? 

Oh, give me pride, a cultivation clannish, 
A filial faith to pen heroic praise ! 

SORDID INDIFFERENCE. 

Shame on the cur unworthy of a collar, 

Lured of a lie, holds ne'er his master's place ! 

Yet not unlike him he that hugs the dollar, 
Nor spares a dime for the annals of his race. 
447 



A MONTH AMONG THE TOMBS. 

Then let the Uickless day that bore him perish ! 

Let the night that bred him deep in darkness lie ! 
For him no charm shall Nature deign to cherish, 

No balm of earth, nor bliss from God on high. 

Where shall he rest, who knows no thought paternal, 
Nor has a heed for any thing but self? 

With aspirations fruitless, frail, infernal, 

Favored of heaven, yet pants for paltry pelf! 

Make him a grave in a far-off, mazy meadow, 
In a desert drear, bej'ond the hooting owl. 

Where the summer cloud shall never show a shadow. 
Unseen of the bird, abhorred of beasts that prowl, - 

And bur}" liim low ; let solitude attend him, — 
No star for the night, no genial dawn of day, 

Nor sight nor sound, let Nature deign to lend him, 
Save from the jackal digging for his prey ! 

FAITH AND ITS REWARD. 

Kindness "to him that shows it" is but just; 

Earth's charities are favored of the skies ; 
Her sinful self must sink to sordid dust ; 

Her rich rewards are waiting for the wise. 

448 



ANGELIC APPARITIONS. 

Give me the man who has a soul within him, 
A heart for heaven, a hand for a noble deed ; 

That lives to learn, and learns to cany in him 
God's golden rale, the emblem of his creed ! 

ANGELIC APPARITIONS. 

Return me hence, from unreserved digression 
To the vale below, where, faithful to a vow, 

That lady wandering strives to give expression 
To unique phrase, time worn, half-hidden now. 

The grave-gate turns its hopeful hinges fair, 
As if to help a welcome heart within ; 

The dead are heedful ; angels have a care 

To such a mission, true the}' " work to win." 

For now, while twilight burns the western sk}^, 
Down from a cloud that hovers o'er the tomb, 

Sprite-voices come, — I seem to see them nigh, — 
And one " Lone Star" doth dissipate the gloom. 

'Mid slumbers deadly am I dreaming now? 

Is there no God to move the spheres above, 
No angel voice to breathe a tender vow. 

No sainted soul to tell us of his love? 
449 



A MONTH AMONG THE TOMBS. 

Indeed I see them in the sabled cloud, 
The manhood meek of earthy olden time, 

Of Mary there they whisper long and loud, 
From heaven all, and equall}' divine. 

FAMILIAR SPIRITS. 

Sure he is there, whose banner bright, unfurled, 
Bore on its folds that beauteous beaming star, 

W ho preached salvation to " a dying world," 
And left it better than he found it, far. 

I see the soul that followed, many a day, 

The miiy beast that dragged the plough along ; 

The frugal heart through all its rustic wa}', 
That cheered these vales with piety and song. 

Note there the 3'ouths, then brief in earth's career, 
Who brought rich harvests to the help of age. 

Whose noble natures brave, fraternal, dear. 
Bequeathed to the world a pure historic page. 

Note there the sprite of fated Indian life. 

Whose arrow clings to the farthest distant cloud, 

Whose vengeance flashes in the heavens rife. 
Beyond the mountains murmuring yet aloud. 
450 



CHILDHOOD HOURS. 

Note there the Pilgrim, pride of all that came, 

Who led the white man, trained him for the skies, 

In all this earthl}^ round who fanned the flame 
That fired a nation's faith, and made it wise. 

Maggie's trp:e. 
Note there serene, a daughter sainted free, 

Brief-known of Earth benignant favored found, 
Who sought the shades of 3'onder towering tree 

There to recline the eternal 3'ears around. 

High on these hills she'd wandered in her childhood, 
Lovel}' to dance sweet summer da3^s along, 

And oft in flowery vale or waving wild wood. 
Inspired the bluebird with her little song. 

Then long ago beneath green branches ^^outhful 
They thither laid her, true, more tender never. 

Still, still that old birch- tree is heavenward truthful, 
Bearing brave honors to that loved one ever. 

Kind spirits flit within its aged boughs, 

Bright night hath come to lave its leaves with tears. 
Soft zephyrs sigh their wonted tender vows 

To Maggie faithful slumbering seventy years. 
451 



A MONTH AMONG THE TOMBS. 

Ten thousand days' bright dawn hath lit upon it, 
Ten thousand nights' sweet stars soft glittering there, 

Ten thousand wild birds lovely warbling on it, 
Have brought oblations to my Maggie fair. 

TIME AND ITS WORK. 

Earth's tard}^ j^ears are nothing in His sight, 
Who rolls the spheres in majesty above, 

Whose sun on high is but a candle-light. 
To lead frail mortals to a throne of love. 

Yet have these years worked wonders in their way, 
Bright links they've formed in the eternity of time ; 

They've laid the Pilgrim old, earth-loved, away ; 
They've given to God the patriot pure, divine. 

IN A CLOUD THEY COME. 

Brave, heaven-taught hosts, our fathers, mothers, all ; 

I hail their presence in the purpled air ; 
Deep in the vale approvingly they call 

Kind commendation true to Mar}^ there. 

Calmly they scan her late benighted wanderings, 
Her faith in God, her truth in every duty, 
452 



NATURE AT NIGHT. 

Her care for kindred, pencillings, and ponderings, 
Earth's favored form, and life's transcendent beauty. 

At length to turn the finished field away, 

Ten times the}' thank her in that mission free ; 

Ten times thej^ chant a soft angelic lay, 

Sweet, like the zephyrs, in that ancient tree. 

THE NIGHT SCENE. 

Ah ! what a change ! Fair dawn hath lost her light, 
The murky shades have mantled earth and main ; 

Soon, soon afar "that gentle queen of night," 
High on the mountains, lights them up again. 

Oh, what a world of glor}' shines above us ! 

What boundless realms, what beauty beams below ! 
What constant faith and care from Him who loves us 

And all for what? Frail nature ne'er can know. 

Ye stately heights, that stand against the sk}' ! 

Ye ocean waves that dash a boundless shore ! 
Lured of thy love I scan ye now on high. 

Eternal there, majestic as of yore. 
453 



A MONTH AMONG THE TOMBS. 

Thine were the tribes of vast uncounted 3^ears ; 

The wigwam wild, indeed, was thine alone ; 
Thine was the pride of Pilgrim pioneers, 

The white man's hamlet, heritage, and home ! 

Hail ! happy hills and valle3's lovely, green ! 

Fair flocks in pastures which the fathers trod, 
Old Suncook rolls sweet flowery fields between ; 

Her mountain peaks are pointing up to God. 



DAWN OF DAY. 

Awake, ye sons and favored daughters true ! 

To faith and works there is a treasured crown, 
A glorious morn is breaking bright for you, 

While at your door I lay 3'our annals down. 

Farewell, mj' long-loved native hills, for aye ! 

Your own bright waters never more I'll see : 
I'll bear your beauty in my soul away 

Where waves the c^^press waiting, beckoning me. 

R. B. C. 

AUG. 31, 1872. 

454 



APPENDIX. 



Note 1, page 12. An Eagle, in Vienna, lived in confineinent after 
his capture, 104 years. A Maine journal says : " There is an eagle's 
nest in a tr< e on tiie shore of the Mattawaumkeag Lake in Maine, 
which lias continued there ever since the country was lirst vi.-^i'icd by 
white men." 

Note 2, page 21. The ark rested on the 17th day of the 7th month on 
Mount Ararat; and the waters decreased to the 1st day of the lOlh 
month; when the mountains were seen. — Gen. 8: 4, 5. Ararat is iu 
the center of Armenia, and is 17.200 feet above the level of the sea. 

Note 3, page 22. " Then Job arose, and rent his mantle, and shavec' 

his head, and f(?ll down upon the ground and worshipped." — Job 1 

20. See also Job 2 : 1—3, 12, 

Kote 4, page 23. One of the A-syrian gods was in form, an eagle'.- 

head and a man's body; in whose temple and in the very act ot 

idolatry, Sennacherib was slain by his two sons. Among the ancien< 

Arabs also, the Eagle was held as an idol. — Bih. Die. Nisrock. 

2 Kings 19 : 17, 18. 

455 



APPENDIX. 

Note 5, page 23. Horeb includes a group of summits of which Siuai 
is one. It is in Arabia Petrea, between tlie two arms of tlie Red Sea. 
Here Moses wandered after he had slain the Egyptian, saw the burn- 
ing bush, and received a commission ; and here he heard and obeyed 
the command: "Take thy shoes from oif thy feet; for the place on 
which thou standest is holy ground." Elijah took up his residence 
here in a cave, when he had fled from the wrath of Jezebel, and here 
he sat under the juniper tree, and heard the " still small voice,'*— 
heard the earth quake, and saw the miraculous lightnings; and it 
was here he received a promise of God for the deliverance of Israel. 

Note 6, page 23. In Mount M- "riah, Abraham 1871 years B. C. offered 
up Isaac. On this hill the temple of Jerusalem was built; and it was 
here that " David interceded for his people at the thi'eshing floor of 
Arannah." 

Note 7, page 23. Tabor is an isolated mountain of Galilee. It is on the 
northeastern side of the plain of Esdraclon. Here Christ, with Moses 
and Elias, appeared in the transfiguration. Peter proposed the building 
ot three tabernacles here. [St. Matt. 17:1-3] And here, 2000 years 
later. Napoleon, [July 25, 1799] with 3000 Infantry, under Kleber and 
a small force of Cavalry under Murat, fought " the battle of Mount 
Tabor" against about 25,000 Turks, under Gen'l " Pacha." 

Kleber, having arrived by way of Nazareth, and being attacked by 
the enemy's Cavalry in great forces, formed into squares with his 
456 



NOTES. 

artillery at the corners. For a long time the contest was fearful. 
But at length Napoleon and Murat, descending from the brow of 
Tabor with a small reserve of Cavalry, fell upon the flanks of tlie 
enemy, and put him to tlight with great slaughter. Twelve thousand 
were slain, and GOOO Turks taken prisoners. 

Note 8, piige 24. On Mount Hor Aaron died. Aaron's son, Eleaz. r, 
and Moses only were present at his death. His tomb is on the summit. 
The tribes in tlie valley mourned 30 days. " This mountain is of 
conical form, and is on thi- east side of Arabah, between the Dead Sea 
and the Elanitic Gulf." 

Note 9, page 24. On Siti ai the hiw on the tables of stone were given 
to Moses. While there, away from the tribes, the golden calf was con- 
structed under the leadership of Aaron, which in the end cost the idol- 
aters 3000 lives. And it does not appear that any more such calves 
were made that year. 

Note 10, page 24. In Carmel, Elijah, in time of drought and famine, 
prayed for rain. Up here the tribes flocked to learn the cause of God's 
displeasure. Baal's Prophets, 850 in number, were also here, and the 
top of Carmel was covered. And here Elijah stood forth inquiring, 
" How long halt ye between two opinions ? If the Lord be God, follow 
him, but if Baal, then follow him?'' 

Elijah triumphed; and here he repaired the altar for the twelve 
tribes, 

457 



APPENDIX. 

This mountain is upon a great promontory upon the coast of Pales- 
tine. Its summits are green with trees. 

Note 11, page 24. dlount Zion, as well as Jerusalem, i.s a term ofLeu 
used to represent the Church. It is the highest and the southernmost 
mount of Jerusalem. It rises 2500 feet above the Mediterranean Sea,arid 
has on its west the valley of Gihon, on its south Hinnon, aiul on its 
southeast Kidrou. 

Note 12, page 24. Joseph died B. C. 1637, at the age of 110 years, and 
was embalmed. He had expressed a desire to be buried at Canaan. 

Accordingly 150 years afterwards, Moses, the leader of Israel, took 
the bones of Joseph, aud carried them along with the tribes through 
the wilderness.— Gen. 50 : 25, 20. Exodus 13 : 19. 

And now in Canaan, near the western entrance of the Valley of 
Shechem, beneath some trees, "a low stone" covers the grave of 
Joseph. 

Note 13, page 24. From Mount Pisgah Moses was permitted to see 
Canaan. Here he died, solitary and alone, after taking leave of the 
tribes at its base. 

Note 14, pnge 24. "Ye have seen what I did unto the Egyptians, and 
how I bear you on eagles' whigs, and brought you unto myself" — 
Exodus 19:4-6. 

Note 15, page 29. The eagle was an emblem in Rome, in Persia and 

iu Greece as he is now iu the United States of America. 

Note IG, page 29. Lebanon is the mountain of the cedars, alludi d to 
458 



NOTES. 

by the Prophets and Poets of Israel to illustrate the beauties of the 
Church. 

Note IT, page 31 On Mount Olivet occurred the conversation at 
the table, when the disciples were iufornled of what vvas about to 
transpire in the betrayal of their Master. Here He was arrested by 
the Roman soldiers, who passed down with their prisoner over Ke- 
dron to Jerusalem. 

The scene at the crucifixion is described in St. Matthew 27 : 45, 46, 
and by St. Mark, Luke and John. The trial was at Pilate's hall iu 
Jerusalem, and from thence they proceeded to Calvary. 

Note 19 page 32. " They that wait upon the Lord shall renew their 
strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles, they shall run and 
not be weary, and they shall walk and not faint." — Isaiah 40 : 31. 

Note 20, page 3G. A constellation in the northern hemisphere is 
called " The Eagle," and has its right wing contiguous to the equinoc- 
tial. It contains '' Altiar," a star of the first magnitude. 

459 



APPENDIX, 




(21.) "^ During tlie late RsboUioti ii veteran white-headed eagle was 
carried beside the standard bearer of the 8th Wisconsin Regiment. 

At the beginnuig of the war he liad been taken in northern Wis- 
consin by a Chippewa Indian. He was a raagniSeent bird, and 
seemed animated by a national enthusiasm. Adopted as a veteran, 
he became a pet of the Regiment. A soldier was detailed to take 
care of him and act as standard bearer, who gave him a place by the 
flag; his perch being cut m the shape of a shield and painted with 
the stars and stripes. 

He seemed proud of his position, and often balanced himself with 
expanded wings, — a living national emblem. Under excitement his 
eye would flash, and his feathers (luiver, as if he held the forked 
lightnings in his talons. The soldiers on catching a sight of the 
bird would kindle with fresh ft^rvor, and often burst forth into cheers ; 
and when they marched through a city, the eagle, borne aloft, excited 
the whole populace. 

He seemed to share in the excitement of battles, and was in 
seAcnteen engagements. He was at the battle of Yicksburg, at Little 

Bear Creek, and in many Herce contests. The rebels called him 
460 



NOTES. 

" Ov-l; " and *' Yankoe Buzzard." They hated hira. One com' 
mander declared he would rather capture that bird than the whole 
brigade. 

Once a bullet ruffled his feathers : but it left him unharmed. He 
fought through the war, and came home in safety, yet, in triumph 
seemed to rejoice in the knowledge that the old flag was secure. 

When the boys of the 8tli Wisconsin returned home from the 
contest, they parted with their eagle with great regret. A place was 
assigned him in the Capitol, where he has a room and is well provided 
for; and during the morning he is among the trees in the park 
enjoying rest after the battles for his country. His name is " Old 
Abe." 

On the 4th of July, he was taken with the flags captured in various 
battles, and with the powder-stained banners which had waved 
above the noble volunteers of Wisconsin, was carried through the 
streets of the city, guarded by the boys of the 8th, who still retain 
their care for him. 

It was the event of the day. Everybody there knows " Old Abe." 
And at the Chicago Fair, in aid of the Sanitary Commission, the sum 
raised by an additional fee for a visit to the bird, amounted to ^20,000. 
All honor to the brave sons of Wisconsin ! And long life to their 
Eagle."— [From a letter in the Boston Transcript.} 

461 



APPENDIX. 

Note 22, page 36. In the four years' rebellion which culminated in 
the abolition of slavery in the United States, about 600,000 lives were 
lost. 

Note 23, page 37. "Wonalancet was a chief, — was a son ofPassa- 
conaway. His wigwam and fort were at "Wamesit, now Lowell. 
Traces of his fort are still to be found at Fort Hill, about half a mile 
south of the junction of the Concord and Merrimac rivers. " This sa- 
chem countenanced rtligion, and it was at his wigwam that Mr. 
Elliot and Mr. Gookin, on the 5th of May, 1764, held a meeting." His 
house was near Pawtucket Falls, on the Merrimac. He (as Gookin 
said,) was " a sober and grave person, and of years, between 50 and 
60." 

Mr. Drake, in his history ot the Indians, tells the following 
story : — 

In 1662, Winnepurket, then known as the Sachem of Saugus, 
made known to the chief of Pennacook, that he desired to marry his 
daughter, which, being agreeable to all parties, was soon consum- 
mated at the residence of Passaconaway, and the hilarity was closed 
with a great feast. And then, by direction of the chief, a select 
number of men attended the new -married couple to the dwelling 
of the husband. There, also, they held a feast several days. Such 
was the custom in the days of Wonalancet. 

Note 24, page 42. " Then shall the King say unto them on his 
right hand, come ye blessed of my Father." . . . " For 1 was uu 
462 



NOTES. 

hungered and ye gave me meat. I was thirsty and ye gave me drmk." 

— St. Matt. 25: 34-36. 

Note 25, page 45. Fremont " hearing that Springfield, fi,fty-one 
miles from his camp, was held by only three hundred rebels, des- 
patched Major Zagonyi, a Hungarian, with his body guard of one 
hundred and fifty, in advance of his arrival." [Headley^s Histonj, 
vol. i. p. 182.] In nineteen hours they assailed the enemy vict' »ri- 
ously, as expressed in the context. 

Note 20, page 50. At a battle in the " Wilderness " a young soldier 
bad fallen; and at his burial a letter arrived from the one he loved 
at home. As his comrades were about to consign him to his final 
resting place, the letter, attracting their attention, caustd a moment's 
delay. The chaplain took the letter and panning it to the bosom of 
the soldie-, addressed the bearers thus: "Now bury him; — he'll 
read it when he wakes." 

Note 27, page 63. This passage refers to a lad late deiieased, who 
lived n the neighborhood of this grove and used to swing on a tree 
above a spacious rock, and had become the pet of the visitors at 
Greenwood. 

Note 28, page 72. The grove referred to stands on a high point of 

land in Centralville, Lowell, Mass., which overlooks "Hunt's Falls" 

and the city. Its shade and prospect are grateful to visitors who go 

up there, as well as to the feathered tribe. 

Note 29, page 74. Tisquantum was a Chief of the Patuxet Tribe 
463 



APPENDIX. 

who, among others, roved upon the rivers of New England. When 
a lad, he was carried to England by a vessel that came to the New 
World, and was held there as a curiosity. But having, somehow, 
found his way back here, he, in course of time, became a chief.— 
When the Pilgrims came, Tisquantum had become old, and all his 
tribe had been swept away by the plague of 1617. He was friendly 
to the Pilgrims, joined their church, but lived thereafterward only 
about two years. He died in 1622. The death of the Patuxet tribe 
was regarded by the Pilgrims as a special interposition of Providence 
in opening a space for the planting of their colony. 

Note 30, page 90. A national convention was held at Chicago in 
1864 in which it is said the confederacy took deep interest. 

Note 31, page 90. On Feb. 3, 1865, R. M. Hunter of Va., A. 
H. Stevens, and J. A. Campbell of Alabama, as agents for the Con- 
federate States, came to Hampton Roads, and made proposals to Mr. 
Lincoln for a compromise, thereby to prevent, as they pretended, all 
further progress of the war. But the negotiation failed. 

Note 32, page 104. During the rebellion, some of the Senators and 
Representatives in Congress, had been expelled for disloyalty. 

Note 33, page 108. The fact that Gen. Patterson did not intercept 
Johnston's march on his way to this battle, was taken by many as 
evidence of P's disloyalty. But, as against a veteran officer, previ- 
ously well tried and sustained, we do not believe the suspicion to be 

well founded. 

464 



NOTES. 

Note 34, page 109. Wm. H. Eussell represented the " London 
Times," in the retreat at Bull Eun. 

Note 35, page 130. Arlington Heights is the center of a large estate 
of 1,165 acres of land, with a stately mansion, which, from its lofty 
position, overlooks to the eastward, the proud Potomac and Washing- 
ton City. Up to the breaking out of the rebellion, Arlington was the 
homestead of Robert E. Lee. In landscape, it was lofty, varied and 
beautiful. The most elevated part of it, comprising about 140 acres, 
is now enclosed as a National Cemetery, and retains its original name, 
♦* Arlington." 

Lee favored secession. He had served a subaltern, of Gen. Scott, 
and an effort was made on the part of tbe General Government, through 
Scott, to dissuade him from so rash a purpose, but of no ax»il. He 
joined the Confederate Army, and subsequently became their com- 
manding General. Absence, 4 years in the war, excluded Lee from 
his estate, and subjected it to the encumbrance of unpaid taxes. In 
process of time it was sold ; the Government purchased it, and, thus 
by tax - title, became the proprietor in fee of the whole estate. 

These Heights by association, as well as by location and elevation, 
had become a fit place as a depository of the dead, then about to be 
exhumed from the neighboring battle - fields of the rebellion, and were 
finally consecrated to that end. 

At this time, passing over from the bridge at Georgetown, up to and 
over that " city of the dead," the objects of interest that present them- 

465 



APPENDIX. 

selves, are numerous and impressive. First of all, on the right side 
of this highway, is a field rising from it, including a spacious hill, 
covered with the graves of six thousand soldiers. These soldiers, a ^ 
well as those on the Heights, rest side by side, about four feet apart. 
Gravel foot-paths, two or three feet in width, extend across the field 
at the foot of each tier of graves, along which the pilgrim visitor may 
pass, and passing, may read from a white slab monument at the head 
of the grave, — 

1. Its Number. 

2. The soldier's full name and rank. 

3. His State, Regiment and Company. 

4. Where and how he fell. 

And on the margin of about one in ten of all these monuments, in 
impressive letters, is the word, " Rebel." Iron, at some convenient 
day, is intended to take the place of these board monuments, by which 
the records above named are to be made perpetual and enduring. 

Note 36, page 132. Not far beyond this field, on the same road, is 
the gate - house, and a driveway leading from it and from the road, 
divers courses through a dense forest of oaks up to the Lee mansion. 

Note 37, page 133. In the rear of the mansion, beneath a tree in 
the forest, is a place designated as the pomt where the venerable Scott 
left his horses, when he called on Lee to dissuade him from his pur- 
pose of joining the Confederacy. 

Note 38, page 135. Still nearer to the mansion and directly in rear 
466 



NOTES. 

of it, extending back from it, are two long and narrow buildings, the 
one used as a kitchen, the other formerly occupied by the slaves of 
the piantatioti. 

Note 39, page 137. On the heights westward of the mansion, the 
oaks open into another spacious field, which has been made the de- 
pository of about 13,000 other soldiers, in the same form and order as 
in the field described above in Note 35. 

Note 40, page 140. Towards the southwest and within a few rods 
of the mansion, there is a large monument of granite, with cannon 
upon it pointing East, West, North, and South. On the westerly side 
of it, is an inscription, from which the following is copied : 

^^ Beneath this stone are the bones q/ 2,111 unknown soldiers, gathered 
after the loarfrom the fields of Boll Run and the route of the Rappa- 
hannock. Their retnains could not he identified, but their names and 
deaths are recorded in the archives of their country. Its grateful citizens 
cherish the memory of its honored army of martyrs. May they rest in 
peace.— Sept. 1866." 

Note 41, page 146. Also a similar instance of fidelity occurred ut 
the battle of Shiloh, Aug. 10, 1861, as related in Kirkland's Incidents 
of the War, page 587, in which it appears a dog of Lieut. Louis Pheff, 
of Chicago, that had stood by him when he fell, thereafterward, laid 
upon his grave twelve days, and thus became the only agency Ijy 
which Mrs. Pheff found the then resting place of her fiiUen husband. 

Note 42, page 146. Not fivr from the mansion, there is an old Fam 
4H7 



APPENDIX. 

ily burying ground, containing, on its monuments, many names f:ir 
known in former days. 

Note 43, page 149. East of the mansion, down towards tlie gate- 
house, is the Lonely grave of Mary Randolph Washington, in a lor 
about 12 feet squiipe. Heavy oaks stand over it, deep in the woods on 
a hill side. It is enclosed by a high brick wall. 
468 





APPENDIX 



Note 44 — page 157. The" Bride of Burton" was written at tli« 
suggestion of one of the author's friends, H. M. Ordway, Esq., 
while on an excui'sion among the momitains of New England, in 
the summer of 1870. 

The story of Chocorua, as found in a vigorous legend by the late 
Mis. Maria Child, is substantially as follows : — 

Cornelius Campbell, of Burton, N. n., left his hut for a hunt in 
Jime. When he returned to dinner, his wife and children had iiA 
been slain by the Indians. Chocorua' s brethren were absent on ;i 
himting expedition at the time of the murder. 

Afterwards, Chocorua was known as having retreated to the 
mountain which has since borne his name. Campbell then got n;> a 
party to cut off the retreat of this Prophet. 

One day, Chocorua was startled at a loud voice from beneath 
the precipice, commanding him to throw himself into the deep 
abyss below. 

He replied — "The Great Spirit gave life to Chocorua, and Cho- 
corua will not throw it away at the command of the white -man." 

"Then hear the Great Spirit speak in the Avhite- man's thun- 
der!" exclaimed Cornelius Campbell, as he pointed his gun to the 
precipice. 

409 



APPENDIX. 



Campbell fired. The next moment the blood bubbled from the 
Prophet's neck, and he reeled fearfully on the edge of the precipice. 
But recovering and raiding himself on his hand, he spoke in a loud 
voice, that grew more terrific as its huskiness increased. 

"A curse on ye white men! May the Great Spirit curse ye 
when he speaks in the clouds, and his words are fire ! 

" Chocorua had a son; and ye killed him when the sky looked 
bright ! Lightnings blast your crops ! Winds and fire destroy your 
dwellings! The evil spirit breathe death upon your cattle! Your 
graves lie in the war-path of the Indian! Panthers howl and 
wolves fatten over your bones ! 

"Chocorua goes to the Great Spirit! — his ciu'se stays with the 
white -man!" 

The Prophet sank upon the ground still uttering hiaudible 
curses. They left his bones there. From thence the tomahawk 
and scalping knife were busy among them ; the winds tore up tlie 
trees, and hui-led them to their dwellings ; their crops were blasted ; 
their cattle died ; and sickness came upon their strongest men. At 
last the remnants of the tribe departed from the fated spot, to min- 
gle with more prosperous colonies. Cornelius Campbell became a 
hermit, seldom seeking or seeing his fellow -men; and two years 
af ter^ he was found dead in his hut. 

During many years the cattle in the town of Burton, now Al- 
bany, at the base of Chocorua, were afiiicted with strange diseases ; 
and the strongest inhabitants became sickly. 

But science proves these diseases to have been brought on by 
impurity of the water in that region, which contained a weak solu- 
tiiHi of muriate of lime. Yet for many years they were attributed 
to Chocorua' s dying curse. 

T. Starr King says, the charming cultivated intervals in the 
village of Albany, which now add to the beauty of the prospect 
from the battered crest of Chocorua mountain, intimate either that 
the Sachem's wrongs have been expiated, or that his duslcy spu-it 
has been appeased. 

4 70 



APPENDIX. 



An account of Chocorua and his tragic death is also given by 
our venerable friend, Samuel G. Drake, in his celebrated "History of 
the North American Indians," published in 1845. From this, as well 
as from tradition, it appears that the dearth, and the diseases, on and 
about this tragic mountain, have ever been attributed to the curse.- 
of Chocorua. 

Note 45 — pagel69. "Little Lilla" was the daughter of ou;- 
neighbor and friend, Mr. Ira Leonard, and this brief lyric was writ- 
ten January 25, 1869, for her little friends. 

Note 4G — page 173. These brief lines, "Onward to the Sea," 
are especially inscribed to the author's friend, Col. James Francis, 
of L., a soldier who had stood with Sherman on the shores of the sea. 

Note 47 — page 177. Sedgwick fell in the wilderness of Vir- 
ginia, May 9, 1864, not far from the Spotsylvania Court House, near 
a stream called the Po. 

Curtis says: "The country heard of his death as of the loss of 
an army." At his burial "no military salute was fired above his 
grave ; but a solitary peal of thunder suggested the soldier's life and 
death; Sedgwick died, but the victoiy was won.". 

Note 48 — page 193. The poem to which this note is appended 
was written as representing the reverie of a young lady while on 
her first excursion up the Kennebec, in Augiist, 1869. 

Brief allusion is made to her luicle, Hon. John A. Pentingill, 
formerly Mayor of Augusta, as one among many of an industrious 
people, who now in the place of the Red -man inhabit the hills along 
this historic river, and who are distinguished alike for thrift, urbanity 
and hospitality. 

In 1607, two natives, Dehamda and Skett, warriors, who aided 
in the survey of the coast of Massachusetts, imder the auspices of 
Lord Chief Justice Popham, piloted the first New England colony 
to the mouth of the Sa^adahock river, since called the Kennebec. 
Sajadahocky so called by the natives, is said to be derived from 

471 



APPENDIX. 



the word '^ Sung- gua- dee -runk,^^ which signifies "coming in," or 
entrance of a river. 

From a deposition of one Lithgow, given June 6, 1767, it appears 
that he liad seen old deeds made a century before that time, wherein 
tliis river Iiad been called the " Sagguadahock and the Kennebeo, 
indifferently." 

The Kennebec is supposed to have taken its name from a sachem 
by the name of Kennebis, This sachem, with others, made convey- 
ances of lands on the Kennebec. 

In the elaborate "History of Augusta," by James W. North, 
Esq., it appears that the first white adventurer up the Kennebec, for 
the purpose of trade, was Capt. Edward Wiuslow. This was in the 
year 1G25. His craft was a shallop loaded with corn. He obtained 
seven hundred pounds of beaver, besides other furs. 

Ancient "C'a^/moc," (now Augusta) is rapidly advancing. In 
1865, the Hon. Wilham Sprague's attention was called to that locality 
as affording great power for manufacturing purposes ; and his works 
there at this time are fast becoming prominent. 

It is worthy of record, and of commendation, that Augusta in 
January, 1807, volunteered a donation of $250,000 to Messrs. Sprague 
& Co., as an inducement facilitatmg their generous enterprises in 
that beautiful city. 

Since Winslow's excursion up the Kennebec in 1625, its naviga- 
tion and trade has been varied, yet constantly progressive. At this 
day it has become profitable and interesting to the excursionist dur- 
ing the genial months of spring, summer and autumn, as well as to 
lac magnanimous people who inhabit its shores. 

Note 49 — page 200. This epic (matrimonial) was written De- 
cember 28, 1870, at the suggestion of a party, who, on that night, 
according to the fashion of these times, produced a surprise to Mr. 
G. S. and Mrs. L. Hatch, of L., on the anniversary of their wedding 
day. The name of Mrs. H. before marriage was Hudson. 

It is a common as well as praiseworthy trait in the manners of 
our people, as manifested by "social gatherings," "surprises" and 

472 



APPENDIX. 



otherwise, that as the years roll on, they seek to make life agreeable, 
taking pleasure in recalling and perpetuating its early social and 
kindly incidents and enjoyments. 

Note 50— page 207. The landscape at the Lowell cemetery, to 
which allusion is made in the context, is truly picturesque and 
beautiful. It has the silvery waters of the fair Concord on its west, 
and the historic and cane - like Fort Hill on its north. The verdure 
is vigorous and its shades are cool and inviting. 

Let no vandal hand hack down these sacred groves. Let no 
corrupt taste, adverse to nature, or to her works or inspirations 
be permitted to desecrate its silent mansions, by clearing the 
beautiful moss from the venerable monuments, or by removing 
from them the little foot -prints of the many kindly associates of 
the saints who slumber beneath them. Flowers are comely, but 
they bloom but for a day. Thf days wdierein they will be thought of 
in any given case, will be few. The life of a man's friends who may 
visit his ashes, is of the like momentary duration. Depend not 
on flowers — and away with your marble, if you have it, except 
simply and permanently to mark the sod. (iive to the dead what te 
them and to good taste would be by far more desirable, the lofty tree, 
and its deep shades inviting the pilgrim; — the green myrtle — the 
moss in its vigor — the harmless, familiar squin-el — and the heart- 
moving, never-dying companionship of the warbling wild -bird. 
Give them these, and let them rest in peace. It is a matter < f 
general public interest that the monuments of our dead should l)c 
allowed to put on Nature's venerable true colorings, untouched of 
vulgar hands, and unwashed of soap-suds. 

Note 51 — page 214. "The Lutheran and Missionary" defines 
the signification of our country's flag, thus — "The white typifies the 
purity of purpose which belongs to her true ruler ; the red points to 
the crimson tide in which life flows from a willing offering ; the hlae 
reminds her of the home in heaven, to which the good are gathered. 
The stars in her banner tell of light in darkness. Indeed shall she 

473 



APPENDIX. 



learn to range them in a new and beautiful order, as the constellation 
of the cross." 

Note 52 — page 227. As preliminary to secession, the slave-power 
seized the United States mint in all places within its reach ; — and prior 
to that event, its leaders, assisted by a few northern representatives, 
had repealed the statute known as the compromise act, as without 
such repeal, Kansas and Nebraska could not have been made sub- 
servient to the southern scheme as slave states. 

Thus having increased the chances of obtaining additional sena- 
tors from northern territory, to that end they advanced to carry slaves 
there. Hence the first battles for dominion and poAver through slav- 
ery, and in fact the first battles of the rebellion were fought in Kansas. 
And it is by no means difiicult to perceive, that if the slave -power 
had prevailed in Kansas and Nebraska, its usurpations would have 
taken an entirely different tuiii. 

Note 53 — page 228. At the convention in South Carohna, in 
December, 18G0, three reasons for secession were avowed — 1st, that 
the North, having a majority in Congress, had not voted a tariff suf- 
ficiently favorable to southern interests ; 2nd, that it had interposed 
and prevented the extension of southern slavery ; and 3rd, that the 
majority rule was wrong, as operatmg against the peculiar interests 
of the slave states. 

But, after all, the true cause of the Rebellion arose from an 
inordinate ambition in the slave -state leaders, who sought to extend 
and jDcrpetuate their jDeculiar institution, an institution on which 
they had for many years been combined and confederated, and who, 
by force of it, undertook to overtm-n the government and make them- 
selves con querers. But, "the best laid schemes of mice and men 
gang aft agley." — Burns. 

Note 54 — page 229. The President, Mr. Buchanan, dechned to 
coerce South Carolina into submission. He did not believe in the 
riglit of the general government to do this, and by a sort of hesi- 
tating "let alone" policy, Rebellion at the onset gained many 
advantages. 

474 



APPENDIX, 

Note 55 — page 230. Mr. Lincoln, while on liis way from liis resi- 
dence in Illinois to the seat of government, from the fear of mobs 
at Baltimore, took a private conveyance and reached the national 
capital through a circuitous route, thus avoiding danger. 

Note 56 — page 230. The war -ships of the government, by some 
of its officers who had become rebels, had been sent away and dis- 
posed of in such manner as not to be available to the government 
at the inception of the war. 

Note 57— page 234. This statue was modeled under the aus- 
pices of the King of Bavaria, at Munich, by the artist. Van Raucli, 
of Berlin, Prussia ; and was obtained and erected in the Queen City 
through the generosity of our friend and patron. Dr. James C. Ayer. 
It is believed no finer specimen of art can be found in any part cf 
the new world. The erecting of such a statue at the tomb of the 
first martyrs of the Rebellion, was truly appropriate and in good 
taste. It is a monument to the valor of our people, creating a pub- 
lic interest in our heroes, which will be likely to increase with every 
succeeding generation of men that stand within its influence. More 
and more as they advance, they will not fail to cherish the memory 
of the donor of so fine an emblem, so truthful and inspiring. 

It adds much of interest to this thriving city, now in its infancy, 
yet destined through the enterprise and beneficence of its leading 
men to stand high in history for its industry, for its learning, and 
for its moral force, as well as for its works of art. 

Note 58 — page 250. At a meethig of the Rector, Wardens, 
and Vestry of St. Anne's Church, holden, November 1, 1867, it was 
voted — 

" That the thanks of the Rector, Wardens, and Vestry, as Trustees of the Rec- 
tor's Library, be presented to Robert 1!. Caverly, Esq., I'or the girt of two folio 
volumes of the 'Acts and Monuments of Martyrs,' by John Fox, London, 16ol,^and 
one folio volume of the 'Cei-emonies and Religious Customs of Various Nations,' by 
Bernard Pecoit, London, 1741, — rare and valuable of themselves, and doublij so from 
the manner of their public presentation, whereby the existence and claims of this 
Library were made known to a large number of our fellow - citizens. 

" A true copy of record, attest, 

"JOHN O. GIIEKN, 

^Cleric, pro. tern." 

475 



APPEXDIX. 

Note 59 — page 255. This incident was related to the author 
by his friend, Mr. George S. Hatch, of L., and (as well as all other 
stories told in this work) is founded on fact. 

Note 60 — page 257. The epic to which this note refers is 
especially dedicated to the Honorable Board of State Charities, in 
Massachusetts. We trust they will read the following facts with 
some interest. — 

One John Burt, known to the author, (having been a laborer in 
his employ,) became a volunteer soldier, and in July, 1864, was lost 
in a battle of "the Wilderness." His family had been left residing 
in the city of Q., up to that time. Various i-umors were afloat 
relating to his fate. But no definite information was obtained of 
hiiTi until the following May, when the news came that since the 
battle, he had been held in a rebel prison, and had died there of 
starvation. In the mean time his widow and three of his small 
children, having come to want, fell into the hands of the Overseers 
of the Poor of Q., who took them to their Almshouse. Soon after- 
wards they passed a vote which appears on record, from which the 
following is copied : 

" October 21, 1865. A special meeting of the Overseers of the Poor was held at 
the . . otHce. It Avas voted that the following - named childi-exi be transferred to 
the Home . . in . . viz : 

"John , ------ aged 10 years, 

"Catherine , - - - - - " 8 " 

"Thomas , - - - - . " 5 " 

' ' It was also voted that a donation of $150 be made to the above - named institu- 
tion in connection with the ti'ansfer of these children." 

Accordingly, without being bound out in writing, and without the 
consent of their mother, they were forcibly taken from her, and were 
delivered into the custody of the Superintendent of the Home, who 
soon afterwards carried the two boys from Massachusetts into some 
part of the far West, leaving them there among strangers and beyond 
the mother's reach, under the avowed pretext of finding for them 
better homes. Yet if these children (as it was known) had been 
allowed to remain at home, they would have had ample support 
with their mother under the United States pension laws. 

476 



APPENDIX. 



In the August tlien next following, this mother, through the 
intervention of a friend, was taken from the Almshouse, a bond 
being exacted and given to said Overseers, exhonorathig the town 
fi-om any further liability to support her, as the ultimate condition 
upon which the bereaved matron, then sick, was allowed to be set 
free. Ever since then, for at least five years, great diligence has 
been exercised on behalf of the mother to obtain her children, but 
as yet to no pm-pose. What became of little Catherine, or to whose 
keeping she was committed from " the Home" (or whether for good 
or for ill) up to the time of this writing, has never been ascertained. 
Strange as it may seem, its Superintendent persistently avers that 
he does not know and cannot tell what became of Katie. In sight 
of the laws of God and man, and in behalf of a bereaved, distracted, 
(i?/<'nf/ mother, may we not continue to ask — "Where is her little 
daughter, Katie?" 

The song to which this note is appended, has been written 
with the hope that it may prove in the minds of men an induce- 
ment to protect by proper enactments the just rights of the widow 
and orphan ; at least that it may lead to measures by which a dis- 
tracted mother may be enabled to find and obtain her lost children. 

In the light of such case, we are inclined to believe as did an 
ancient writer, that an outrage like this is sometimes providentially 
permitted, and is allowed to be made historic "in order that the 
actions of men may not be effaced by time, nor the great and won- 
derous deeds displayed both by Greeks and barbarians deprived of 
renown." — Uerodltus. 

Note 01 — page 2^)9. It has been thought by many, yet perhaps 
erroneously, that one of the objects for carrying Catholic children 
iiUo the far west was to make them Protestants by consigning them 
to Protestant families during their years of mmority. 

Note 02 — page 270. The mother above referred to, mazed at 
times by reason of her bereavements, was sometimes known to have 
wandered by the river -side, in the wilderness, and on the hills, call- 
ing for her lost children. 

477 



APPENDIX. 

Note 63 — page 271. Lately we have learned that at least one 
of the Courts in this country is beginning to promulgate the law 
as it is, and as it should be in such case. We refer the reader to a 
recent decision by the Supreme Court of Illinois, in the case, Peo- 
ple ex rel. O'Connel v.s. Turner — -in the light of which the kidnap- 
ping of children under color of legal enactments, or any other 
pretext, would be put to shame. 

Note 64 — page 287. Watchenoet was one of the chiefs who 
conveyed land -titles in New Hampshire. 

Note 65 — page 288. Miantonimo was a chief, said to have 
been friendly, tall and cunning. He hunted the forests in this region 
of country, of which Major Richard Waldron was chief among the 
whites. Mossup, a brother of Miantonimo, was killed by the Mo- 
hawks about twenty miles " above the Piscataqua," and was buried 
by Major Waldron. Major Waldron was afterwards cruelly mur- 
dered by the Indians in his own house and within his own garrison, 
at Cocheco, now Dover, N. H., on the night of June 27, 1680. 

Note 66— page 304. The chime -bells at Lowell, to which allu- 
sion is made, were obtained at the cost of about $5000, — raised 
mostly by donations from its citizens. It is pleasant to find here a 
taste well cultivated for music as well as for poetry. 

As of common intei-est, the names and inscriptions, as found on 
the eleven bells composing the chime, are appended. 

Eb — 2271 lbs. Hedrick Bell. 

From the tower of St. Anne's 
We praise thee ! God, and celebrate thy blessing on the generous endeavors of 
George Hedrick, Esq. , and other citizens and friends whereby we were placed here to 
ring Thy praise : — 

'■'■ Gloria Patri Filio ' Spirituque .' " 
A. D. 1857. 

F — 1448 lbs. Citizens' Bell. 

"Art is the handmaid of human good." We were purchased through the 
generosity of the citizens of Lowell. 

A. D. 1857. 

478 



APPENDIX. 



G— 1134 lbs. Pabish Bell. 

First public worship in the village (now Lowell) by Rev. Theodore Edson, March 
7, 1824. St. Anne's Church consecrated March IG, A. D. 1825. Allan Pollock and 
Warren Colbuni, ihst church Wardens. 

Ab — 956 lbs. Historical Bell. 

Merrimack Company began work A. D. 1822. Town of Lowell incorporated 
A. D. 1826. City charter granted A. D. 1836. 

A. D. 1857. 

Bb — 783 lbs. Ole Bull Bell. 

This Bell was the gift of 

Ole Ball, 

The great violinist of Cergen, Norway. 

A. D. 1857. 

" Honor to whom honor is due." 

B — 083 lbs. Musicians' Bell. 

To the memory of Handel! 

Born A. D. 1684, died A. D. 1758. 

Presented by the principal musical professors and amateurs of Lowell, A. D. 1857. 

To music, noble Art divine ! 

Ring forth ye bells a merry chime ! 

C— 608 lbs. HovEY Bell. 

A memorial to George H. Carleton, late Junior Warden of St. Anne's Church. 
Presented to the Church by Charles Hovey, as an expression of affection for his earlj 
master and late partner. 

A. D. 1857. 

Db — 565 lbs. Bishop's Bell. 

Rt. Rev. Manton Eastburn, D. D., 

Bishop of Massachusetts. 

Consecrated Dec. 26, 1842. 

**Tanguam Dei dispensatonim. ep. ad Titum." 

D — 530 lbs. Rector's Bell. 

Presented by 

The ladies of St. Anne's Church, 

To perpetuate the memory of their beloved and devoted Pastor, 

Rev. Theodore Edson, D. D., 

Rector of the Parish since the consecration, 

A. D. 1825. 

*' Blest is the tie that binds 

Our hearts in Christian love." 



479 



APPENDIX. 



Eb— 431 lbs. Founder's Bell. 

Jones & Hitchcock, 

Troy, Rens. Co., N. Y., 

Aug., A. D. 1857. 

F — 460 lbs. Ayer's Bell. 

Presented by 

James C, and Frederick Ayer, 

Chemists, 

Lowell, A. D. 1857. 

'■''Omnibus quae prosunl sequimer." 

480 




LIBRARY OF CONGRESS 

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015 785 594 3 



